


Snapshots

by ArtemisRae



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Community: 52_flavours, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-20
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 30,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRae/pseuds/ArtemisRae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses into the lives of Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell. A little bit of everything in these drabble length fics written for the Livejournal community 52_flavours</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. kan, ya ma kan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is Winry's guinea pig.
> 
> Manga-verse (no spoilers, just interactions with manga only characters) and I guess, technically, set post-series?

* * *

1._ Kan, ya ma kan_  
(Once there was, and once there was not.)

* * *

           When he had free time – which was rare, and was to be treasured – he liked to go visit her in Rush Valley, usually paying for a room at a local inn to avoid raising too many eyebrows (Winry had many, many, large, _tall_ male patrons who were, if possible, more protective than _he_ was of her, though only concerned with in her "best interests") but sleeping in her tiny apartment anyway.

           While he was there, if she could wrangle her own free time and he wasn't in need of immediate repairs or maintenance, she _still_ couldn't stop working. She liked to try experiments on his automail – ideas that she'd been sketching out or drawing up blueprints to or had even started building. Within reason, of course. She'd long since agreed that anything involving hidden guns or knives or bombs in his automail was off limits, but new alloys or wiring or sensors were generally okay.

           It was as touching as it was annoying; she trusted him enough to let him see ideas that she wasn't sure about, and he wasn't just _any_ customer; he was Ed and therefore when she had a breakthrough he was the first to celebrate with her. On the other hand… he was also her personal guinea pig.

           "Ta-da!" she trilled, sitting back from him and twirling the screwdriver between her fingers. He was sprawled across her couch in the living room of her apartment – which wasn't an apartment as much as it was an extension of her work bench; he regularly found tools in her medicine cabinet and refrigerator next to her toothbrush or the milk – eyes glazing over as she explained the new ventilation system she had installed on his arm in an attempt to keep it cooler in hot weather.

           Then the next thing he knew the phone was ringing and he was frantically recalled to Central for some problem that only he could possibly help with ("Why again?" Winry demanded as he scrambled to find his suitcase, and all he could do was shrug helplessly) and he was rushing to the train station to catch the next train and Winry was shouting something at him through the window that he only caught the tail end of:

           "-didn't give me a chance to remove it and that's my _only_ prototype, so you better take _damned good care_ of that arm, do you understand me?"

           He smiled and waved and promised, swore up and down even as the train was pulling out, that he'd take care of the arm, and he'd come right back to Rush Valley as soon as he could get out of this military thing, and honestly, he was going to slug Mustang right in his fat face as soon as he saw him, and although the train station was just a dot on the horizon by the time Ed had finished his vow, he was pretty sure Winry had gotten the message.

           And then bandits. Fucking _bandits_. Stalking up and down the aisles with their shiny guns, terrorizing two little girls with big blue eyes and long blond pigtails, and, even if he weren't a member of the military, how could he have sat there without taking any action?

           It ended like it always ended. Goodness prevailed, and the bad guys were rustled up and hogtied in a neat little row for Mustang's inspection when he arrived at the station and the two little girls beamed at Ed and waved their thanks as their white-faced mother led them out of the station.

           "Do you have to make everything so difficult, Fullmetal?" Mustang bitched, as usual, surveying the damage Ed had done and mentally calculating the paperwork his charge had amassed in an hour's work. "You can't even take a simple train ride from RushValley to Central without playing hero, can you?"

           "Don't look at me like this is my fault," Ed snapped. "I wasn't even supposed to leave RushValley for another week. _You're_ the one who insisted I get on that train."

           "Well," Roy sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "At least you got here in one piece." Then his eyes glanced down at Ed's right side. "Mostly."

           "Eh?" Ed followed Roy's gaze, and took in his mangled arm. He hadn't realized at the time, but when he'd transmuted his blade, he'd torn away and destroyed Winry's brand new ventilation system. The one that she'd just installed. The one that there was only one prototype of. The one that he'd vowed to take extra special care of.

           "_Shit_."

* * *


	2. The Light Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Al make a disturbing realization about Winry's house. I guess this one is technically anime-verse as it references an anime-only incident. Kidfic.

* * *

36\. Within and without with white

* * *

 

The sky outside was dark with ugly grey clouds, and rain thrummed with disappointing regularity upon the roof above them, but that was okay because inside three children were managing to entertain themselves anyway.

 

           The trio had been outside when the skies had opened up on them, and they had quickly made a mad dash for the Rockbell house, which was closer than the two brothers’. Ed had been glad to reach the front porch, and as Winry fumbled with the doorknob and shooed the brothers inside the dark foyer, he couldn’t help but be grateful that they had been allowed, welcomed back into Winry’s life after that scene last week when he and Al had tried to make her that doll. He was still embarrassed about how badly they’d scared her, even though Winry had reassured him and Al that the doll was tucked neatly in her bed with her other stuffed animals.

 

           He loved the Rockbell home. Even now, darkened with the storm, there was something about it that was bright and open and _clean_ – a house filled with laughter and family and light.

 

           It was mostly an internal feeling, stepping into the Rockbell house and feeling like he was stepping into a radiant, untainted place. As much as he loved his home, it sometimes felt like the only light in the place came from his mother or brother. There were no darkened, locked, rooms in the Rockbell home. Years later, when Ed’s mind converted completely to science, he would make a connection between the comforting atmosphere of the house and the fact that Winry’s family was not yet broken like his and that Pinako kept only the brightest lights installed to keep a keen eye on detail work in her automail, but as a child Ed could only bask in the warmth that the house provided.

 

           Winry pulled out some crayons and several big paper pads, and it wasn’t until quiet fell over the three of them as they drew that Ed heard it.

 

           At first he thought it was the wind howling outside, and he tried his best to ignore it until Al, shifting uncomfortably, broke the silence to ask in a slightly quivering voice, “Winry? Is your house haunted?”

 

           She blinked at him in confusion for a moment, unsure why he was asking, and then understanding dawned on her face. “Oh! That noise? Gran’s doing a surgery.”

 

           “_That’s a guy_?” Ed couldn’t help blurting out in horror. It sounded almost inhuman.

 

           Winry just nodded, unsure where the boy’s consternation lay. “Well yeah. Automail hurts, dummy.” And as if that were the end of it, she went right back to her picture, snagging the blue crayon out of Ed’s suddenly limp hand and scribbling furiously to color in the sky.

 

           The brothers exchanged nervous glances before looking back down at their colorings. Al half-heartedly picked up another crayon, but Ed could only frown at his paper, stomach roiling as he tried to block out the noises.

 

           After several tense minutes, Ed started to pick words out of the shrieking. Al looked near tears, and Ed decided he’d had enough.

 

           “I think we should go home now,” he said reluctantly, standing up and reaching for Al. “I think Mom would worry about us being outside.”

 

           Winry frowned at him, eyebrows drawing together in a childish pout, but decided not to argue. “If you say so…”

 

           She saw them to the door, head tilted in confusion, and watched the brothers as they raced back to their house without looking back.

 

           It was the first time the lights dimmed in the Rockbell house.

* * *


	3. Burn Away the Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is realistic about his relationship with Winry.
> 
> Manga-verse only in that it mentions manga only characters. Can be interpreted as pre- or post-series.

* * *

5\. entire orb of the satellite

* * *

 

They're not one of those couples whose whole world revolves around the other. Never have been, and never will be.

Ed has his alchemy, and his job with the military, and his responsibility for Al - who, no matter how tall he gets, or how grown-up he acts, is still Ed's _little_ brother, and Ed'll always feel responsible for him, whether Al wants him to or not.

Winry has her automail, and Mr. Garfield and her customers in Rush Valley, and her responsibility for Granny and Den, who are finally starting to slow down in their old age. No matter how many times Granny shoos Winry away, or tells Garfield not to give her so much vacation time, Winry knows, first and foremost, where she belongs.

That's not to say there isn't love - there is. When they come together there's an intense passion that used to confuse Ed and often leaves Winry breathless. There's love, and loyalty, and companionship and fierce devotion; all those things that add up to make a great love affair.

It's just that one is not always the other's top priority at any given time.

He ponders it in the library in Central, reading books on the stars and planets and how they move; Winry will never be the ultimate center of his universe, around which he revolves, nor will he ever be hers. It's easier for him to think that the both of them are a pair of satellite moons, moving together in orbit. Though occasionally one veers off into their own elliptical, they always return and fall back into that same rhythm, that same orbit, beside each other.

Ed much prefers it that way; after all, once, Hohenheim was the center of Trisha's life. Maes meant the world to Gracia and Elysia. All Ran Fan used to do was bounce around Ling.

No, Ed and Winry will never be one of those couples whose entire world revolves around the other.

Ed thinks it might be better that way.

 

* * *


	4. Hell to Pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most men only have to deal with one set of in-laws. Ed has all of Winry's customers.
> 
> Again, manga-verse for interactions with manga-only characters. Can be interpreted as pre- or post-.

* * *

50\. Willingly exhibit unto them due honour

* * *

Her customers didn’t like him. On those occasions when he went to her shop in Rush Valley instead of calling her to Central or wherever in the country he just happened to be at the time, there was always an awkward period of time between when he and Al first arrived and when Winry finally whisked him away into the her workroom where all the customers waiting patiently in the shop glared at him, whispering to each other or muttering under their breath or cracking their knuckles menacingly until Winry came out. _Then_, of course, they were all cheerful smiles and greetings.

At first Ed had tried to ignore it; he knew he’d accidentally created a little reputation for himself in Rush Valley, and he could understand people not exactly welcoming him back to the city. And he could appreciate how protective her customers were of Winry – it actually sort of pleased him, because most of them were older males, war veterans, and Winry had already _had_ two father figures violently taken away from her. He wasn’t going to begrudge her a whole crowd of them.

He just never considered _himself_ a threat that Winry needed to be protected from – because in Ed’s mind threats were homunculi and glowing transmutation circles and men with glowing red eyes and other terrible things that most people had never witnessed - and not, as many of Winry’s customers saw it, a horny teenage boy.

It was tolerable, at first, but when he and Winry had actually started making clumsy attempts at a relationship it had grown to almost unbearable levels. The muttering and whispering had grown louder, and clearer, and the threats against him had stopped being implied as much as they had perfectly articulated what was going to happen to him should he upset their darling, innocent mechanic. (_Wonderful_, Ed had thought, because he didn’t already have Al and Pinako and Hawkeye and probably Armstrong ready to rip his throat out if he should ever break Winry’s heart).

He had been made to understand that while he might not like weapons in _his_ automail, Winry was still damned good at designing them and they were in constant demand (Ed had huffed and wondered who’d had the brilliant idea of building machine guns into automail in the first place). Once someone had tossed a stray screwdriver at his head, and when he had wheeled around to see who had done it he had been met with three blank stares (and Ed couldn’t help wondering _exactly_ what kind of stories Winry had been telling them about him). He spent a lot of time waving his hands placatingly and laughing innocently and practicing his best “Who, _me_?” face.

One day it all become too much however, and he lost his temper while having tea with Garfield, Paninya and Al as Winry fussed behind him.

“Can’t you talk to them?” he asked accusingly of his girlfriend as she paused long enough to pick a cookie up off the plate in front of him.

“Edward.” Garfield looked up from where Paninya was painting his toenails. “You’re imagining things.” Then, once he paused to think about it, added, “…and even if you aren’t, it’s only professional interest.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ed demanded.

“You’re Winry’s number one customer, and that means she shifts appointments for you and leaves town for you and does things for you that she doesn’t do for them,” Paninya explained, still bent over Garfield’s foot with the little jar of red polish.

“See, Ed?” Winry called, who, thus far, had remained firmly ignorant of the treatment Ed had endured at the hands of her customers. “It’s nothing personal.”

Ed’s frown remained. “What?” Winry asked, exasperated.

He rolled up a pant leg to show the bruise that was blooming under his right knee. “If it’s not personal then tell me why Tetsu kicked me in the shin this morning and accused me of debauching his big sister.”

* * *


	5. Be Careful What You Wish For…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems most Ed/Winry writers tackle the subject of Ed and Winry dancing at a ball. This is my take on it: Ed might actually be justified in being a grumpy crank that refuses to dance.

* * *

34\. But it is hardly suitable for delicate boys

* * *

 

They sat close together – though nowhere near close enough to actually be touching, naturally – and watched the proceedings around them, one with interest and longing, the other with embarrassment and boredom.

Winry couldn’t help feeling disappointed, no matter how many times she reminded herself that she had come to the military Yule Ball fully expecting to land in the situation she was in now. She’d felt almost smug when she’d come into the banquet hall with Ed on one arm and Al on the other; certainly, there was no other lady in the room lucky enough to have two handsome alchemists escorting her.

But then Al had quickly proceeded to steal the date of pretty much every single other gentleman attending – something he did naturally, without any effort – and after exactly two waltzes with Winry they had been interrupted and Al had begun to work his way through the remainder of the ball with any one of a number of interchangeable women. Winry had returned to her seat at the dinner table to marvel at Al and glare at Ed out of the corner of her eye. Ed was very determinedly staring down into his wine glass or up at the vaulted ceiling.

She crossed her legs, smoothing the ice-blue silk, and jiggled her foot impatiently in time with the music; Ed’s shoulders hunched even farther. She caught Roy and Riza sending her a sympathetic glance – she sent back a rueful smile – and moments after the song ended was startled when a blue form moved into her line of vision.

Craning her head back, she made eye contact with Roy Mustang himself, holding out one gloved hand for her to take, a satisfied smirk on his face. “It’s a shame to see such a pretty lady sitting on the outskirts.”

“What do you think you’re playing out, Mustang?” Ed demanded. Both Winry and Roy ignored him.

“Do you want to dance?”

Winry only watched Ed out of the corner of her eyes as she accepted Roy’s hand, standing up and letting the Colonel lead her out to the dance floor. Ed let out an outraged huff and suddenly red wine was dripping on the floor as the glass in his hand shattered. Winry wondered vaguely if Ed was going to make a scene right here or if she would be hearing about a brawl in the Colonel’s office tomorrow, but that thought was swept away to the side as the music rose and dipped and Mustang guided her along with it. She was just losing herself in the moment, and was therefore more than a little irritated when they came to an abrupt stop.

She blinked. There was an automail hand on Mustang’s arm.

“I’ll cut in,” Ed said in a low, dangerous tone. Winry rolled her eyes at him – how could Ed _possibly_ think dancing with him while he was throwing a tantrum was any better than sitting next to him in a huff? – smiled her thanks to the Colonel, and took Ed’s hand.

Despite her annoyance, she was happy to finally be dancing with him. Ed looped one arm around her waist to guide her, let Winry wrap an arm around his shoulders, and then promptly stepped directly onto the toes of her right foot with the heavy metal of his automail foot.

There was a short, tight, crunching noise. Stars flashed behind her eyes, and Winry froze as she tried to process the pain shooting up her leg. She must have let out a yelp, because through the haze of pain she could see Roy coming back towards them and feel Ed’s tightening grip on her arms, keeping her upright.

“Winry?” he called uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

She sagged against him and he half-dragged her back to a chair, demanding to know what was wrong. Reaching down with a trembling hand, she tugged off her shoe; Ed clapped his hands to his mouth and let out a little “eep!” of shock, his face turning the same shade of purple as Winry’s rapidly bruising toes.

“Good lord Fullmetal!” Roy exclaimed loudly, peeking over Ed’s shoulder. “You have to have broken at least three of her toes, you brute!”

“It’s the automail!” Ed shot at him defensively, then looked back at Winry, adding miserably, “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_!”

Al wandered over at this point, concerned by the commotion surrounding Winry. He gaped at Winry’s foot before elbowing Ed hard in the ribs.

“I knew you said you’d do anything to get out of dancing,” he said in a reproachful tone, “but don’t you think injuring Winry is going a little bit too far?”

Ed groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

* * *


	6. A Little Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most things have changed from their childhood, but not everything. Little things still count.
> 
> This is another one from the children's childhood – I had originally meant for it to take place during Chapter 9 of the manga, but I'm not sure if the details match up so I'm just going to go with: takes place during some nondescript maintenance visit home early in the series.

* * *

3\. laws of variation

* * *

When they were very, very young, during that golden time of their early childhood – when sometimes it was Winry’s mother who took on Saturdays and “Daddy” wasn’t the dirtiest word in Edward’s vocabulary – when they were young enough to still need those little naps after lunch, Trisha or Sara (or whoever was in charge of separating Ed and Winry when he started pulling her hair and she wanted to shove worms down his throat) would pull out a couple of worn blankets and let the children picnic for lunch. Those were always the best days and more often than not they exhausted themselves, quietly curling up once the food disappeared and dropping off one by one, the pale blond of Winry’s locks shining against the darker gold of Al and Ed’s.

Most afternoons it went the same: Winry would fall asleep with one arm under her head and would wake first, shaken from sleep by the tingling of blood flow slowing in the limb. This was fine with the parents, because as long as Ed was asleep she’d sit quietly; alternating between yawning and rubbing her eyes and amusing herself with some stray tool Pinako had left around.

Al was usually the first asleep and the last awake, curled as tiny as he could into a fetal position. Six days out of seven he would wake up next to furry warmth – even as a toddler he attracted animals, and Winry would sometimes pout, jealous that Den liked to sleep next to Al in the afternoon despite the fact that the dog slept no where else but Winry’s bed at night.

And Edward…

Edward alone would take up half the blanket, arms and legs sprawled, thrown haphazardly wherever they landed – it wasn’t unusual for Winry to wake up with a leg draped over a shoulder or for Ed’s hand to land on Al’s forehead – and some afternoons he snored so loudly he drowned out the sounds of Pinako working in the shop. There was always that hint of pink flesh above the waist of his shorts where his shirt had ridden up, and once asleep, he rarely stirred until Winry poked him awake or until Al fussed in his sleep.

* * *

Not quite fifteen years later, with a great deep breath, Winry was suddenly jolted awake from a deep sleep. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she looked around the room, trying to get a bearing on her surroundings.

It was dark – lit only by the lamps over her workbench and one in the corner – and Winry knew it had to be the middle of the night, not too far past midnight.

There was a cramp in her neck, and she rolled her shoulders and tilted her head, looking to relieve the dull ache that had built up. She was used to it by this point – her arm hasn’t tingled in years, but too many nights drifting off over her workbench had made her used to sitting up and trying to shake out the soreness that had developed over the hours.

Al was sitting on the floor next to the couch, his legs bent at the knees and one arm looped easily around them. The other arm was resting on Den’s back, and as Winry tried to blink the sleep from her eyes she gave him a little wave. With the tiniest of clinks, he raised his arm from the dog’s back and waved back. Winry knew how much he hated being alone at night and was happy Den was there to keep him company when she and Edward couldn’t.

Speaking of Edward…

He was lying on the couch, head tilted back and mouth gaping as he slept. His flesh arm was thrown over his face (his metal one was on Winry’s workbench in front of her) and his two legs dangled off the end, just barely brushing the floor.

So much had changed in that short period of time; the golden haze of their childhood had given way to a blood-soaked adolescence. They’d grown up and endured the deaths of their parents and their separation over alchemy and automail installation and the second separation over the brother’s journey. Winry didn’t just play with her grandmother’s tools. Al spent long nights waiting for Ed to wake up. Ed has learned to tune out the clanking of Al’s armor when he’s sleeping, and no longer wakes when Al fusses.

And yet…

Winry’s the first one to wake, watching the boys carefully and quietly. Al still attracted animals, even in his fearful looking armor. Ed’s stomach was showing, his restless leg having kicked away the blanket Al had laid so carefully over him.

Things had changed. The course of their lives had been altered dramatically. What were once undeniable truths had been proven false. How often had Winry despaired that this journey would never end; that what had once been familiar to them was gone forever?

Strangely comforted, Winry turned back to the workbench, picked up a set of pliers, and gently went back to work rewiring Ed’s elbow joint.

* * *


	7. Private Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Winry are not together. No, seriously.
> 
> This one is a touch… racier than I've really posted so far, so watch out if you're sensitive towards that sort of thing.

* * *

10\. You close your mind To their gentle questions What do these people know about love?

* * *

"They asked about you at the office again." Ed's low voice cut through the darkness. Her hands, already under his shirt, ceased movement.

"Who, Mustang?"

"Yeah," Ed snorted and his voice rose into his imitation of the Colonel's, "_Honestly Fullmetal, how long are you going to keep that girl hanging? It's a sin that you actually have some poor girl who can stand to be in your presence for longer than five minutes and you ignore her_." His fingers teased the ends of her hair, twisting it around and letting the pale blond shine off of the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

Winry rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him through her wide eyes. "What did you say?"

Ed grimaced. "Hawkeye was there, and you know I can't lie to her-"

Winry laughed, a small puff of warm breath against his neck and chin. "So you turned it into a short joke and got mad?"

"Mm. Whatever works." His hands were still in her hair, and he brought her up to face him, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

"I wonder why they're so interested in us." Winry was straddling him now, settled right at the crest of his hips. Her long hair fell over her shoulder like a curtain.

"Think there's an office pool running." His hands were at her waist, running up her sides, and she obediently lifted her arms so that he could remove her shirt.

"Still... why us?" She was removing his shirt now, popping the buttons one-by-one, going torturously slow by pausing to kiss each bit of revealed skin with each button.

Ed snorted. "They seem to think we're attracted to one another."

She smiled against his skin. "Where could they possibly get that idea? There's no way I could be attracted to a short-tempered alchemy geek."

It didn't matter that her words were in jest. He pulled her back up to face him again, bringing her lips to his in a kiss that was slightly rougher, more demanding, his mouth open against hers. His hands were clenched around her waist and the warmth between them was slowly growing unbearable.

"I agree," he gasped, when Winry pulled away and moved back to the sensitive spot where metal met the edge of his neck. "There are tons of things I find unattractive about you."

She sat up abruptly, frowning, and Ed smirked at her, running his hands up her stomach. "Like that bra, for instance. You should get rid of it."

Laughingly, Winry obliged, and when she leaned back down to kiss him again Ed put thoughts of all others out of his head. It wasn't any of their business anyway.

* * *


	8. Bid Me Hold My Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed's no poet, and he's even worse at complimenting Winry.
> 
> Post series, intending to be manga verse and pretty much assumes that everyone lives happily ever after.

* * *

52\. speechless with the memory of a drowned moon.

* * *

He found Al and Winry on the very outskirts of the festival, lying on the banks of the river, away from all the lights and music and organized chaos of Central’s Harvest Festival. Ed was still unsure what the exact point of the festival was – Central had no farmland, and it was technically still late summer and there was no harvest to speak of, but every time he had presented his arguments Winry would start rhapsodizing about the new dress she’d bought and Al would start rattling off the list of festival foods he wanted to try and Ed’s protests would quickly get lost in the other two’s excitement.

The pair lay on the bank, their gold hair mixing and reflecting pink and blue in the light from the festival behind them, giggling and passing a bag of fluffy spun sugar back and forth. Ed stomped up behind them and stared down at them, frowning.

“You ditched me!”

“Did not!” Winry instantly argued, sitting up and pulling the hem of her dress back down over her knees. “I said to you, me and Al want candy, and you said, oh no, I see Colonel Bastard is over there, and then you went and hid behind two fat women in frilly dresses.”

“That’s when you ditched me!”

“That’s a lie! We told you exactly where we were going! It’s not our fault you went and got yourself lost!”

Al tugged at Winry’s hair.

“It’s too hot to get this riled up,” he informed her mildly, and she smiled at him before crossing her eyes at Ed.

“You’re right.” Winry flopped back down next to Al and reached for the bag of candy before offering it to Ed. He shook his head and instead dug into his pants pocket, tossing some coins at Al.

“Go get us some shaved ice.” Al sat up, and picked at the change before standing up and rolling his eyes at Ed and walking back up the bank.

“You know, if you want to be alone with Winry, you could just ask me,”

“I like cherry!” Ed called back, neither confirming nor denying his brother’s words. Winry giggled again and reached up, taking his wrist in her hand and tugging him down to sit next to her.

The night was warm but this close to the river there was a little bit of relief to be found, and with a pleasant sigh Ed flopped onto the cool grass next to her, closing his eyes and feeling as the muscles of his limbs slowly relaxed in turn. He could still hear the music and chattering of the festival behind him, but if he focused really hard he could feel more than hear Winry’s breathing next to him.

After a moment Winry shifted next to him, and when he opened his eyes he saw that she had rolled onto her stomach and was propping herself up on her elbows, watching him intently.

His defensive questioning of her studious look died in his throat as he looked at her. Some men were romantics – they could look at a lady like Winry and instantly come up with ten lovely metaphors for her long blond hair or some wonderful classy way to describe her body or use powerful imagery to explain her smile – all things Ed noticed, and loved, but Ed was no poet and was even worse at complimenting Winry. When she had come down the stairs and met him at the front door that evening in her new dress that she’d been gushing over for a week, all he’d really been able to do was blush furiously and manage to stammer out some nondescript compliment that he couldn’t even remember at this point.

Ed was much more at home with science books, dry technical texts that bored the pants off of most people even as he devoured them. Lying there under Winry’s scrutiny, he suddenly remembered reading a passage on blue moons – how sometimes after a large fire smoke in the atmosphere would distort the light from the moon and make it literally appear blue in color. Ed had never seen such a thing, but he was struck with the thought that if he ever did see a blue moon, he would be reminded of Winry’s wide, earnest eyes watching him.

He must have blushed at the thought, because Winry tilted her head and asked almost teasingly, “What are you thinking about?”

Ed blinked and looked away, seeking out and finding the real moon, a silver crescent against the inky black sky, and shrugged as best he could laying on his back.

“Nothing.”

* * *


	9. Arrant Knaves All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are waiting for them. Winry reminds Greed.
> 
> Features spoilers from chapter 48 and on, particularly for chapters 55, 56, and 74, and it AU out the wazoo.

* * *

40\. I want to know how you slept with him, the way you held him. Every crevice through which my shadow may ink itself. The more I tell you of my happiness, the more unhappy I am. That you are not part of it, that you do not covet it for yourself.

* * *

“He’s waiting for you, you know.” His taunting voice breaks through the darkness that her world has been for much of the last week or so – they only travel at night, and they keep her shut up good and proper in one of the Fuhrer’s cars, traveling in his personal cavalcade as they race back north to Brigg’s. Winry knows that Major General Armstrong is riding in one of the other cars ahead of them, having noticed the way her penetrating gaze flickered over Winry, just for a moment before turning away to her own car, away from the hostage who was riding with the homunculus.

Winry refuses to meet his eye. The man across from her was once a proud prince of Xing, and it breaks Winry’s heart to see how he’s lowered himself in accepting a role as an underling of the homunculi.

“He knows we’re taking you back up to Briggs, and he’ll create the crest we need himself while he waits for you,” he continues, and Winry clenches her jaw to stop herself from retorting. Before she would have never hesitated to banter with Ling – he asked for it, the same way Ed does, but now she’s never sure who’s talking to her, who’s squinting out of which cracked eye. Even if she were assured that it was Ling speaking to her, she still would not respond. She doesn’t trust either one.

He frowns at her now, disappointed that his plaything is not entertaining him as promised, and rubs the back of his neck before leaning forward conspiratorially. “You’re waiting for him as well, aren’t you?”

Her elbow is braced against the ledge of the car door, and her chin is planted in a similar manner, her eyes gazing impassively out the window – a posture of complete apathy that would have been far more convincing if there weren’t thick curtains over the windows and Winry’s hand hadn’t clenched, her nails slowly digging half-moon marks into her cheek.

A slow smile crawls across his face. “Have you gotten anything out of that boy yet? I can’t believe that even he is so focused on his task as to completely ignore a beautiful lady like you, just sitting in front of him.” His voice is low and he is still leaning close to her, his breath hot against her cheek and ear. “Even with the way he looks at you, the way you think of him, nothing’s happened, has it? All those pretty pictures you dream every night are just fantasies, aren’t they?”

Winry’s blinking hard, furious at herself for letting him get to her. She’s always tried not to let her mind wander in that direction – _focus on Ed, on Al, on Ed’s automail and Al’s armor,_ not on any fanciful ideas she might have for the future – but her dreams regularly betray her.

“So you just wait,” he says, and something in his voice shifts. “You wait, and you wait.” Winry’s eyes slide over to him, half-curious and half-fearful of this new change of tone. The look on his face is ever the same, studying her almost lazily out of his right eye, but the voice was almost… touched. It was less of a taunt and more of a plea. “Wait.”

“Ling?” she breathes, hardly knowing what to think.

With a deep sigh the homunculus abruptly withdraws, leaning back into his seat and almost going limp, his arms slack around his waist and his head flopped back against the car seat.

Righteous fury suddenly rose up in Winry. “He has someone waiting for him too!” she suddenly burst indignantly, breathing deeply to quell the hot tears that threaten to well in her eyes. She’s still waiting on Ed’s promise, after all, and she knows Ran Fan is still waiting on Ling’s promise of coming back immortal – though mostly coming back.

Across from her, his eyes remain closed. “You’re right,” he remarks, almost indifferently. “She is waiting for me.”

 

* * *


	10. Honest Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has the best intentions, but things never go as he planned.

* * *

12\. No otherways for pomp and majesty

* * *

Al accompanied him for the trip down to Risembool’s only post office. The two fell into an easy pace as they traveled down the road; it was a beautiful spring day and Al was giddy with excitement over the final arrival of the tiny object wrapped carefully in the parcel waiting for the pair.

Almost reverentially, Ed pulled the paper away from the box and held up the silver band to the sunlight; the diamond glinted promisingly as Al ooh’d and ahh’d appropriately. Ed smiled in relief; it was simple and it was elegant and it was perfect for Winry.

“Do you know how you’re going to ask her yet?” Al almost whispered, apparently caught up in Ed’s awed atmosphere.

“Mm.” Ed nodded. He wanted the occasion to be perfect, something nice and memorable – but not overwhelming. This weekend Winry would find herself pulled away from her workshop and outside into the warm spring sun, away from the house and prying eyes and to a simple picnic lunch that would give him just the right opportunity to get down on one knee and propose without worrying about screwing it up in front of everyone.

It was a theme that ran disturbingly rampant through their relationship: it seemed like Ed always irrevocably screwed up all those “big moments” that so many couples enjoyed.

During their first kiss – in her workshop, in the middle of maintenance – a heavy wrench had slid from Winry’s slack fingers and landed on his foot. Ed had yelped like a wounded animal and jumped back, only to set Winry off balance. She’d toppled over her own workbench, showering herself with tools and stray automail pieces. The resulting black eye earned him an aghast stare from Al and had taken over a week to fade.

When they had finally gone on their first date – a real first date, that involved Winry in a dress and Ed in a tie, and theater tickets to Central’s latest sensation – Ed had nearly gotten himself arrested when he’d overheard the couple sitting a row behind them talking about him: (“The Fullmetal Alchemist? I met him once. Hope he grew a bit, he was almost sixteen and he still could have passed for twelve.”). Winry was mortified and hadn’t spoken to him for a week.

And the first time they had slept together – _that_ one was worst of all. It easily went down as one of the more horrifying moments in Ed’s memory, and nobody but Winry knew of the events that had transpired that night. She, more for his ego’s sake than anything else, avoided mentioning that awful night.

And so Ed was determined, right to the very core of his soul, to make his proposal absolutely perfect – it was no more than Winry deserved, and there was no way he was going to allow himself to ruin it.

When they returned to the house he poked his head into her workroom to see how her afternoon appointments had gone. The whine of the grinder ceased and she lifted her goggles and waved at him.

“Where’d you and Al go? I was looking for you a little while ago.”

Ed shrugged nonchalantly. “We ran down to the market for a few groceries.”

“Did you get those apples like I asked you to?” she asked absently, still measuring the metal fingers strewn in front of her against each other.

Ed’s face flushed. She had asked him to pick those up. “…I forgot.”

Her eyes flashed. “E-ed! You know I wanted those so I could make a pie for Al’s birthday!”

“I know, I just forgot-“

“You,” Winry accused, “are the worst grocery shopper ever!”

“_What_?!” Apparently her afternoon hadn’t gone so smoothly. He recognized every single sign of her wanting to pick a fight.

“You only ever think of yourself when you’re shopping! You never remember what anyone else in the house needs!” Her jaw was set stubbornly.

“That is _completely_ untrue!” Ed crossed his arms defensively and frowned at her. “And if you’re so worried about the shopping, maybe you should do it once in a while!”

He knew it was no more than a bad mood that had prompted her yelling at him – they’d certainly argued over stupider things than grocery shopping and he was more than used to blowing off steam through them.

Still, it hurt a little when Winry glowered at him and asked harshly, “You can’t even get the shopping right! What kind of boyfriend are you? What kind of husband are you going to make?!”

“I’d worry less about what kind of husband I’ll be and more about what kind of wife berates her husband for no reason!” They were shouting at this point. He was sure their words were carrying through the house.

“You were just being selfish!” she declared, pointing at him dramatically.

“_Selfish_?! You – you-” he bellowed, groping wildly for words before blurting out, “I would make a great husband!”

Winry looked unimpressed. “_Prove it_!”

“I _will_! You want to get married then?”

“Fine!” The floor under Ed’s feet seemed to tremble with the force of her voice.

“_Fine_!” He barked right back at her, then turned away and slammed the door behind him so hard he thought he heard the hinge crack.

Al was standing in the kitchen threshold across the room, a dazed look of shock on his face. “_Brother_…” he intoned, shaking his head.

The last few moments of the fight replayed in Ed’s head, and he slapped himself in the forehead with his flesh hand. “_Shit_!” Then, reaching into his pants pocket and fishing out the little box he’d just picked up, he turned right around to go back into the workshop.

“Winry…?”

* * *


	11. phenomena of winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was perfectly fine with Ed, sitting alone with her in front of a fire and pretending nothing but the two of them existed.

* * *

49\. Solipsism in winter

* * *

Winry was waiting for him when he arrived back at the house, half-carried by Al as he tried to hobble around the gripping pain shooting up through his seizing automail leg. The arm didn’t feel much better, but a couple hours traipsing through knee-deep snow had really taken its toll on his leg.

He’d known she was going to be upset with him – she’d was still sleeping when the Foster boy had come banging on the door just after sunrise, explaining that the roof of their barn had fallen in from the weight of the overnight snowfall, and could he and Al be of any help? Ed hadn’t bothered to wake her as he and Al bundled up as best they could and slipped out the door, and Ed suspected that it wasn’t waking up alone that bothered her as much as the knowledge that he’d gone out into the snow without the appropriate lecture about how his automail acted in severe weather such as this.

As Al helped him up the front steps, he momentarily regretted their decision not to swap out his normal automail for the frigid-weather stuff Winry made – it had seemed unnecessary at the time, because Ed rarely went out into the snow, but at times like these…

The door flung open, and there was Winry, still in her nightgown and robe and her hair mussed from sleep. Her slippers grew wet as she stepped out to help Ed into the house, guiding him straight into the den and onto the couch before kneeling before him and yanking his boots and socks off.

“Pants off,” she ordered, standing up and going into the kitchen, giving him enough time to remove the requested item before returning with a large steaming towel and a cup of hot coffee.

“What were you _thinking_?” she berated, giving him the drink before kneeling down again and fussing with the leg. “Do you know how badly you could have damaged your skin?” her hands had gone cold from handling the freezing metal, and he yelped and shifted uncomfortably when she touched the sensitive skin about the docking port on his thigh, massaging it to get some feeling back into the skin. A moment later his surprised exclamation turned into a deep hiss as she wrapped the hot towel around the edge of his port, letting it warm the skin to prevent any damage to his nerves.

“You _know_ this,” she complained, crawling up on the couch next to him and yanking at the shoulder of his jacket to get to his arm. Thankfully, Winry had gotten a fire going in the fireplace, and the room was still warm as he removed his jacket and shirt. “You’ve been to Briggs, don’t you remember that?”

“How could I forget?” he grumbled, sipping the coffee and watching her out of the corner of his eye as she fussed with his shoulder port. Even all disheveled from sleep and flushed with irritation, she still looked beautiful, and Ed couldn’t help thinking that it was perfectly fine with him, sitting here alone with her in front of a fire and pretending that nothing else existed other than the two of them.

She huffed and narrowed her eyes at him before craning her head and calling back into the kitchen in her sweetest voice, “Al? Will you bring me another hot towel, please?”

Her eyes returned to his shoulder port, but he reached across with his flesh hand and caught her chin, gently bringing her blue eyes up to meet his. Annoyance and worry reflected in them, and for a moment his heart felt too big for his chest – he never desired her more than when she was all riled up, and he was very thankful indeed that he had a natural knack for getting her into that state. It suddenly seemed to occur to her how close they were, because her face flushed even redder, though her eyes never left his.

The hand at her chin threaded into her hair – he could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo – and pulled her even closer, closing what little distance remained and pulling her into a soft kiss. Enough to say he was sorry without having to say it out loud. Enough to remind her why she put up with him. Enough to make him forget about everything – suddenly, nothing mattered but Winry, with her soft hair between his fingers and her supple lips against his and-

They were cut off rather abruptly with a loud _squish_ as Ed was suddenly hit in the head with something warm and wet. The cup of coffee that he’d been balancing on his knee tumbled into his lap, and with a howl he jumped up and frantically tried to brush the hot liquid away.

“Damnit, Al!” Ed cursed, glaring at Al’s unashamed grin, and completely missing the amused smile that threatened to break out across Winry’s astonished face.

“I think you’re sufficiently warmed up now, Brother,” Al said in total innocence, smiling unapologetically as he returned to the kitchen.

* * *


	12. Bacchus Hath Drowned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't you think we're taking advantage of him?" A weakness of Ed's is exploited.
> 
> This fic is merely a sign of affection on my behalf – the more I love a series, the more I want to write drunken shenanigans for it. This is straight out pure silliness. I have a very clear picture of Al as an adult. Mischievousness and snarkiness is involved.

* * *

15\. On purpose to confound this scoundrel’s pride

* * *

The summer Al turned seventeen eventually went down as one of the fonder memories of Winry’s lifetime. It was one of those rare – especially for her – periods of time where things were calm; Al’s classes at the local college went on a short break, and Winry set up a short-term contract with the military, working with the medical units to upgrade and replace the automail of some of their disabled members. Ed – whether it was through his own desires or lack of missions for Roy to send him on – actually stayed in Central without wandering too much, spending most of his days prowling through the libraries, digging up old books that hadn’t been touched in years and developing new theories.

Even the weather cooperated – the supposed dog days never came, choosing instead to stay mild the whole summer, with only a few warm rain showers to keep the country from falling into drought.

It was, in a word, idealistic, even if it only lasted a short time. The season and the weather and Al’s birthday combined to spur a kind of fever in the trio – at least, on Al and Winry’s part and Ed was merely dragged along for the ride – to go out and act their age for once, something they rarely, if ever, did.

Al’s birthday was spent as an intimate affair at Gracia’s; a huge dinner along, with several different desserts, was laid out and only afterwards, when everybody lounged around, overstuffed and half-sleepy with wine, did Mustang speak the words that had prompted Al and Winry into action.

“I’m surprised you wanted to spend your birthday here, Al,” he murmured, head tilted against the back of the couch as he waited for his meal to digest. “When I was your age me and my friends would spend every night of the week having drinking contests in a different bar.”

Those had been his exact words – Winry remembered them because Gracia had accused him of corrupting youth and thwacked him soundly in the head with one hand while balancing a stack of plates in the other.

Ed had snorted, and Winry had chuckled, but Al, a living quest to try every new thing possible, had made an attempt to sit up a little straighter and asked curiously, “What sort of contests?”

That had been the official start to their summer. Sometimes they played card games, and sometimes they placed bets, but the core rules always remained the same: first one to fall down paid the tab. Last one standing chose the drinks first round next time they were out.

Ed spent a _lot_ of money that summer.

Winry didn’t notice at first; she was too busy scouting bars with Al and coaxing Ed out of the library and then trying to convince him to look up hangover cures when she couldn’t get him out of the library and cleaning up messes the next day and, after one particularly wild night, repairing Ed’s arm after inadvertently goading him into destroying it (and all three had learned an important lesson: even a State Alchemist is a terrible alchemist after mixing ales with several shots of whiskey).

It wasn’t until late one July night that it finally hit her. She and Al were lugging Ed back to the tiny apartment the brothers shared, not long after last call. Despite the fact that the night air and the walk back was helping Al and Winry sober up, Ed was still slung between them as they trudged in the darkness. They weren’t helped by the fact that Al was significantly taller than both Ed and Winry; Ed’s automail foot was dragging on the ground, occasionally sparking in the darkness. He’d lost the shoe a while back.

“You know,” Winry sighed, “this wouldn’t be as bad if you two didn’t live on the fourth floor.”

Al laughed. “It wouldn’t be as bad if the two of us had to drag you home every night instead of Ed here.” He glanced down at his brother with a mixture of irritation and fondness. “Thank god he isn’t really full metal. It would add another fifty or so pounds to him.”

Winry sighed. “And this is my lightest automail yet…” Her brain started to wander back to her workshop, mentally flipping through her materials and what she could try making Ed’s next arm out of.

Then an odd thought popped into her head. “Al?”

“Hmm?”

“Has Ed won any of our contests this summer?” She blinked as she thought about their nights out. “Has he even… not _lost_ yet?”

“’Course not,” Al answered instantly. “His body mass is way smaller than ours. He’ll never keep up with us.”

Her jaw dropped. Al had known the whole time, which meant – “Don’t you think we’re taking advantage of him?” she blurted out.

Al tilted his head and considered her words. “I think it’s beneficial to Ed’s ego to not be good at something for once.”

Winry scoffed in tones of mock scandal. “Ed’s not good at lots of things! Like keeping up with automail maintenance and remembering birthdays and knowing when to shut up and…” she rubbed the back of her head. “Growing.”

Al laughed again, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook.

Between them, Ed groaned aloud and mumbled something in his sleep about highway robbers.

 

* * *


	13. And Kisses are a Better Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed. Winry. Winry's flowery shampoo. Ed has no choice but to submit.
> 
> Title stolen from e.e. cummings. Watch out for adult themes in this one folks.

* * *

31\. And it is only my longing

That saturates the colour of apples

That turns a passing scent into form,

Like breaths sculpted in cold weather.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” Ed grumbled as Winry wound a towel around his neck, guiding him back to lean against the sink.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t broken your arm so badly that I had to send away for parts,” Winry scolded. “And your hair smells. I’m not sleeping another night with you if it smells like this.”

“Do we have to use _your_ shampoo?”

Winry just smiled at him and tapped him in the middle of his forehead.

“I thought you liked the smell of my shampoo?” There was a teasing quality to her voice, but Ed failed to be amused by it.

“On _you_,” he specified, but Winry kept the same smile on her face and turned on the water.

“Close your eyes,” she murmured.

He obeyed, and the next thing he felt were her soft hands threading into his hair, starting at his temples and letting the rough pads of her fingers drag across his scalp. His hair grew heavy as she worked it under the water, wetting it and wringing it several times before she turned the water off.

There was the snap of the bottle, and then the soft, flowery scent of Winry’s shampoo filled his nostrils. Instinctively he took a deep breath, drinking it in – he did love her scent, the soft shampoo and soap, inevitably mixed with sweat and gear oil after working on automail all day.

She started at the ends of his hair, working the shampoo through it and twisting it around her palms as she worked her way up until her hands were finally back on his scalp, working gentle circles around his hairline as she moved.

His mind started to drift and he thought about her and how she was when they came together – the warmth and the scent of her naturally took his mind to such places.

He thought of soft lips pressed against his, and her tongue just brushing his, just enough to entice him further. He thought of her soft hands – those same hands tangled up in his hair, running it through the warm water – running down his chest, over his stomach, and pausing – always pausing, always seeking to tease him by massaging light circles before finally dipping lower just as he was on the verge of begging. He thought of the way her own silky hair would drag over his shoulders as she moved above him – or the way it gracefully fanned out underneath her when he moved over her.

The water stopped again, and he realized she was humming softly, some nameless tune that she probably wasn’t even aware of. It brought to mind sharper cries, the rumble of her voice against his lips as he found the sensitive skin on her neck and the drawn out moans whenever he hit _that_ spot.

He wasn’t paying attention and did not even notice that, after wringing his hair out in a towel she lingered still, running her fingers through his hair, the wet strands parting easily around her searching fingers.

Normally when her hands were tangled in his hair she was not nearly as gentle, and his mouth involuntarily twitched with a grin as he thought of her desperately clutching at him, hands fisting in his hair and urging him on even as he remained steady – he liked to return the favor and tease her just as badly as she did him.

A moment later – her hands still in his hair, thumbs tracing lazy circles at his temples – her lips pressed against his. A brief, gentle kiss, just to alert him to her presence. “Are you alive?” she asked, voice pitched soft.

“Mmm.” That was his answer; the ends of his mouth curling as he cracked open an eye to look at her. She was leaning over him, her elbows bearing her weight as she leaned against the sink with a supremely satisfied look on her face.

“If you come into the bedroom I’ll braid it for you,” she offered, and he almost laughed at the way her face fell when he shook his head, declining, though it didn’t last when, lightening fast, his arm wrapped around her waist, setting her off balance and dragging her into his lap.

“Right here’s fine,” was all he said before he captured her lips again and wove his hand into her hair.

* * *


	14. Stepping Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Ed can only watch them and wonder how they can look at him without fear in their eyes.

* * *

47\. Bitterness doesn’t stand a chance with those two.

* * *

He owes the two of them so much. Even now, when things have returned to some sense of normal – as normal as it will ever get for these particular three – sometimes all he can do is watch and wonder how they can even look at him without hatred or fear in their eyes for everything he’s put them through, the ways he’s forced them to step back from a normal life.

Al delights in every new sensation, eats every single thing he can get his hands on, has expanded his wardrobe to include every fabric imaginable and shakes hands or hugs every single person he talks to – all because he was deprived of those sensations for years. Because of Ed.

Winry’s been no stranger to tragedy either and even if he cannot claim responsibility for the Ishbal War and the death of her parents, guilt fills him when he thinks of what he’s dragged her into since then, from the alleys in Central to the snowy mountains of Briggs, places and things she never should have seen. Because of Ed.

The things they’ve put on hold because of him just overwhelms him sometimes, and all he can do it look at them and shake his head and wonder how they can stand him.

This particular morning they’re making breakfast, creating a meal far larger than three people actually need but not apparently caring as they toss containers and ingredients at each other and bicker over how much icing to put on the cinnamon buns while thinking up new ideas for the next time they bake.

Even though Ed knows he should simply be grateful that these days – lazy days where he can roll out of bed and find the two people he loves most waiting for him – the feeling of gratitude has a sharp edge of guilt to it, guilt that clenches his heart and blocks his throat, and leaves him helpless to do anything but watch them and mourn for so many days that could have – should have – been like this. They would have been able to learn how precious days like these are without his sin driving the lesson home.

So caught up is he in his own misery that it’s not until something hits him in the face that Ed starts and realizes that Al and Winry have momentarily stopped cooking and are staring at him.

“…What was that for?” he asks, eyebrows crossing as he frowns down at the little cinnamon roll that’s landed icing side down on the floor.

“You weren’t responding,” Winry’s tone is petulant, but there is an undercurrent of curious worry underneath it. A glance at Al’s face reveals that he’s clearly thinking the same thing as Winry.

For a moment the atmosphere in the kitchen shifts into something tense and uneasy. Al and Winry are looking at him like they know exactly what’s wrong, like they’re trying not to pity him, and Ed grits his teeth, irritated with their concern for him, and scrambles to think of an excuse for his distraction.

The tension is broken as Winry reaches out and raps Al on the knuckles with a spatula. “Al!” she calls, exasperated. “Fingers out of the icing! Honestly,” she goes on mumbling, returning to the stove and prodding the pan sizzling there, “stupid brothers, I can’t turn my back on you for two moments – Ed, can you come watch this bacon and sausage for me for a minute please?”

“Huh?”

The next thing he knows an apron has been shoved in his face and he’s muttering something back at Winry – he’s not even sure what, but she snorts in response and Al admonishes, “Brother!” gently, and they’ve fallen back into their routine, the three of them. Ed helps cook, but refuses to wear the apron, and Winry knocks Al on the hands so many times she finally bars him from icing any more of the cinnamon buns and soon the kitchen is full of smells and laughter as the trio tuck into breakfast. The food is warm and satisfying, and Ed finds the combination of Al and Winry and a shared breakfast is enough to fill the hollow ache in his chest.

He doesn’t notice as Al and Winry carefully watch him through their gentle banter, and he certainly doesn’t notice the looks they give each other, as they communicate in a way that only those who’ve known each other from birth and know each other inside and out can do.

_Another day. Another step forward_.

* * *


	15. Dreamt in Your Philosophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There aren't many people Ed would be willing to put aside his principles for, even for a short while.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 10

* * *

33\. This is how your desire tangles with a desired one.

* * *

Al was silent, gaping at Ed as his brother led him up the path at a brisk pace; there could no doubt of their destination as there were no other buildings around the tiny, white-stoned church that Ed was heading towards.

“Brother…” Al finally found his voice as Ed stalked up to one of the tall doors and yanked it open, looking for the priest who spent most of his time there. Al had been perplexed when Ed had dragged him back for a day-trip to Risembool, and even more confused when, once the train had pulled in, Ed had not headed towards Granny’s like Al had expected and had instead walked in the opposite direction, through what little town there was and heading for the outskirts that just bordered the rolling farmlands.

Whatever question Al had been about to ask was lost when a kindly old face peered into the foyer from the wooden doors that led into the chapel. “Can I help you boys?”

Al instinctively flinched, afraid of Ed’s response, and couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped when Ed said, in absolute seriousness, “I wanted to know what I had to do to reserve the church for a wedding.”

“When were you planning on holding it?” the priest asked, stepping all the way out of the chapel and gesturing for Ed to precede him into the tiny office that Al suspected had once served as a closet.

“Late spring, next year,” Ed answered absently, eyes automatically traveling through the building to take in the religious iconolatry; Al could see how uncomfortable he was, and wondered why Ed was putting himself in this situation.

“Aren’t you the Fullmetal Alchemist?” The old priest’s tone indicated clearly that he was well aware of the religious beliefs – or lack thereof – of the People’s Alchemist. “Why do you want to get married here?”

Ed shifted nervously in his seat. “Lots of people know who I am,” he said sullenly, eyes staying even on the mauve colored carpet or up at the beige ceiling. “If we have it here, some uninvited people won’t bother to make the trip out and try to barge their way in, and the ones that do will be easy to keep out of the church, since it’s so small.”

“Is that the only reason?” the priest asked dryly. Al sighed, and it suddenly occurred to Ed that he had said something mildly insulting.

“Risembool is our hometown,” he said defensively. “I didn’t pick this church for no reason.”

This seemed to be more to the priest’s liking, and he finally got down to business with Ed and started discussing the wedding plans with him. Al was mostly quiet – he suspected that he’d been brought along for no other reason than moral support – speaking only to confirm some inane detail that Ed wasn’t entirely sure about.

He didn’t really get a chance to talk to Ed at all until they were back in the train station – Ed insisted on catching a late train back into Central instead of merely spending the night at Granny’s – “I don’t want the old hag to know we’re here. She’s sure to tell Winry and I don’t want her to know yet.”

Al shifted in his seat a little and gave an awkward cough before asking, “I thought Winry decided she wanted to get married in the Rose Gardens in Central?”

Ed was silent for a long moment before finally grumbling, “It’s easier this way.”

_That_ was a blatant lie. By having the wedding in Risembool instead of Central they were going to have to make travel arrangements and change invitations and prepare the tiny town for the invasion of a number of people. It was, in fact, going to make the wedding planning far more complicated.

Al waited, but Ed didn’t go on. Finally, he prompted, “Are you sure?”

“Look!” This time there was an exasperated tone to his voice. “Every couple in Risembool for the last five generations has gotten married in that church. I _know_ Winry wants to get married there, and I _know_ she’s afraid to ask me because she’s afraid I’ll say no. And if I had offered, then _she_ would have refused because she doesn’t want me to be uncomfortable.” He paused and then added, almost pathetically, “Winry’s parents got married there.”

The tiny stress he put on the word ‘parents’ told Al everything he needed to know. It was known only to a few people that Trisha and Van Hohenheim were never officially married – it was yet another sin that their father had committed that Ed would never be able to make himself forgive.

Despite the full confidence of Winry, Al knew Ed feared turning out like their father – feared disappointing Winry. Even despite this knowledge, Al was still surprised at how far Ed was going. There were not many people Ed was willing to put aside his principles for, even for a short time.

For a long minute they sat there quietly, Al looking at Ed and fighting down the smile that threatened his face. Finally Ed snapped.

“What are you looking at?” His tone had returned to its usual surliness.

“Nothing!” Al held up his hands in a placating manner and looked away, up at the stars that were starting to blink in the darkening sky. Then:

“…You do know Winry has already put down a deposit for a reception tent, right?”

**   
**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In chapter 54 Ed tells Father that Van Hohenheim and Trisha Elric were never entered into a family register and that the Elric surname is from their mother's side. I took that to mean that Trisha and Van Hohenheim were never officially married.


	16. To Prepare a Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has issues with getting older. Winry tries to convince him to accept it.
> 
> It was interesting to write Ed and Winry as an older couple – all of my fics so far have them as younger adults.

* * *

17\. Fitly to themselves most hard to bear

* * *

A thick silence hung heavy over the kitchen. The tense atmosphere wasn’t of particular concern for the two currently occupying the room as much as the little item, sitting innocuously on the table that was currently dividing them.

Winry broke the silence with a derisive snort. “I can’t believe how immature you’re acting about this.”

Ed was rubbing away a building headache behind his eyes. “I told you, Winry. I don’t need glasses!”

“Edward.” There was little else Winry could do but growl his name in frustration. She’d noticed last summer that he was squinting when reading in low light, and then during the fall had seen that he was holding books a little closer to his face. It wasn’t until the spring showers had started and he'd suddenly started complaining of frequent headaches that she finally took action.

There was no chance of persuading Edward to read _less_ – he made his living doing research and developing theories, and the written word was always going to play a major part of his life. Instead Winry had gone out and purchased a weak pair of reading glasses – she suspected Ed only needed something to help him focus on small text, and that his eyes weren’t even bad enough to warrant a prescription – _yet_.

“You know that if you don’t use these now, your eyes will just get worse and then you’ll need glasses _all the time_?” In her head it had sounded like an appeal to his rationality and had come out as a whining nag. Honestly, though, she was more than used to Ed’s stubbornness, but this time he was just being stupid about the whole thing.

“My eyes won’t get worse because there’s nothing wrong with them now!” he snapped right back, rising to her challenge just as always. Winry bit her tongue to stop a savage reply that would just escalate into another screaming match and changed tactics.

There were _some_ advantages to getting older; though Winry and Ed were at the age where they were starting to notice some tiny physical complaints – Ed’s eyesight merely being one on the list - there was also no doubt in Winry’s mind that she knew Ed inside and out. Screaming at each other until he caved, her favorite and usual method of persuading him, wasn’t going to work this time.

Ed’s stubbornness in this matter went beyond denial about getting older; it was for the same reason that he meticulously shaved every day even though (and Winry had never really had the heart to tell him this) he didn’t have that much to begin with. It was the same reason why he only wore a ponytail around the house and never ever out, carefully braiding his hair even if it was only a trip down to the market. It regularly stung Ed’s pride that even though he had worked for most of his adult life to not turn out like his father, genetics had betrayed him and his shoulders had broadened and his chin had squared off, leaving absolutely no doubt to those few who knew both father and son who, exactly, Ed had taken after.

She stood up and moved behind him, her skilled hands resting on his shoulders and sliding down. “Aren’t you sick of your back cramping up from hunching over?” she asked in her sweetest, most innocent tone, knuckles kneading at a knot she found there.

His response was to straighten up in the chair and let out the tiniest exhale; not much, but enough to convince Winry she was making progress.

“Aren’t you sick of going to bed with a headache?” she continued, moving her hands up into his hair – tied into a hasty ponytail after showering – and running her fingers through his bangs. She leaned closer to him, pitching her voice lower. “I know you want to go over that report again tonight. Just try them, this once.”

It was rare for Ed to refuse a request Winry had made in earnest, though she could still feel his hesitation. One hand wrapped around the end of his ponytail. “Do you want me to braid your hair?”

“No,” he muttered gruffly, shaking her off and standing up. He snatched the glasses up off the table and held them between his thumb and index finger like they were some kind of bug before slipping them on, blinking at her over the rims. “Just to look over the report tonight,” he said, almost cautiously. Winry gave him her most encouraging smile, and then turned to peer into the foyer as the front door slammed open and Al came bursting into the room holding two books and clearly excited about something.

“Brother!” he cried. “You have to – whoa.” He raised a hand, pointing at Ed in wonderment. “You look just like-!” Al blurted the words out before he realized what he was saying and abruptly cutting himself off, dropping the books and clapping both hands up over his mouth.

The damage was done. Ed snarled some wordless curse and ripped the glasses from his face, shattering them in his automail hand before stomping from the room. The slamming of a door echoed through the house.

Silence fell over the room again. Winry glared at Al, who had the grace to look properly ashamed.

“_You’re_ talking him into the next pair,” she informed him curtly, rubbing her eyes as she realized that _both_ of them would be going to bed with a headache that night.

Al’s face promptly morphed from blushing shame to pale terror. Winry just snorted and started cleaning up the remains of the glasses.

* * *


	17. The Greatest Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry can tell when Ed transmutes his gifts.

* * *

4\. to cut a bouquet of matter and antimatter roses

* * *

She can always tell when he transmutes his presents.

Ed doesn’t do it often – usually only when he’s running late or he’s been particularly thoughtless and forgotten completely, about her birthday or whatever occasion he feels the need to give her a gift for – but when he does she can tell the difference.

Once he presented her with a new ring spanner, one she knew he had to have alchemized himself because of the way he rushed home from the deserts in the East, how he wouldn’t have had time to stop to pick out the tool. Later she compared it to an older one in her shop, and was surprised to find that Ed even got the brand name stamped into the handle correctly – for a moment she was astounded to figure out that Ed actually paid attention to such things – and that the two tools were completely identical, differing only in age and use.

It didn’t handle any differently from the other one; it feels the same in her hand. She can just _tell_.

Winry thinks he’d be embarrassed if she pointed it out, that he sees it as a weakness – _damnit, forgot, damnit, running late, damnit_ – so she never tells him that she prefers it when he alchemizes his presents.

He’s not wanting for money, and she knows he could go out and get her anything and everything she’s ever wanted – he’s certainly come close enough on some of their shopping sprees in Rush Valley – but something about the knowledge that he created it himself pleases her. She likes the idea that instead of seeing something that reminded him of her, Ed thought of her and _then_ thought of something that would make her happy.

That’s why when she opens the tiny box to reveal a bracelet she squeals so loudly Den barks in alarm. He created it himself from alchemy – she’s not sure how she knows; only that she does, and she can even tell that Al had to have had a hand in this one, because there are no skulls or fangs involved.

She throws her arms around his neck – he blushes and hesitantly returns the embrace – and resolves to never admit to him that she can tell when he makes his own presents.

She doesn’t want to embarrass him, but even more importantly, she doesn’t want him to stop.

* * *


	18. Parent’s Teachings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry finds she has misunderstood Ed.

* * *

21\. the heart of a gypsy

* * *

She was frustrated with him.

Winry could rationalize it, and often did successfully. It wasn’t fair for her to be upset at Edward for something he could not control.

But it didn’t change the fact that she was tired of being on the road, of being away from home.

Sure, it was different from when they were younger, and the brothers were on their dangerous journey. Now Edward _wanted_ her to travel with him, and he always came home to her on the occasions when she elected not to go on whatever trip he’d dreamed up. He even let her know when something unexpected came up, calling her to let her know he’d be later than expected.

And how could Winry really expect less of him? Part of her had hoped that he’d be tired of a life in motel rooms and road food, but another part of her hadn’t been surprised at all when, after several months of living with her at home again Ed had started finding excuses to make little trips, always inviting her along but never hesitating to leave again. Even now, when she had the relationship she’d always wanted with him, every couple of months they’d be off, sometimes for alchemy related reasons, though more recently they’d become more inane, more random. He wanted to visit Central and catch up with Gracia and Elysia Hughes. He wanted to visit the Yousewell mines again, to see how they’d recovered. Master Garfield had been writing her a lot recently, so perhaps a trip to Rush Valley was in order?

And while Winry was never one to say no to a free trip to Rush Valley, she was frustrated. She and Edward had earned their home, creating a new one out of the wreckage from their previous ones – would it truly be so bad to simply live and relax for a little while without worrying about when she’d be called upon to pack up again, even temporarily?

Still, it wasn’t something she’d ever planned on confronting him over, having long chalked it up as one of those Edward quirks she was familiar with. It was merely that she had been looking at photo albums, looking at pictures from their childhood when Ed had said something about traveling north again and it had slipped out, a vicious and automatic retort:

“Would it kill you to stay at home for a little while?”

She’d been looking at a picture of Ed and Miss Trisha when she’d said it, suddenly thinking of how Ed had grown up with an absentee father who always traveled and a mother who had waited faithfully. She knew Ed feared turning out like his father, but could he be emulating him unconsciously? Was that why he was always so adamant that she go with him, so that she wasn’t waiting for him?

As soon as she looked up she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Ed flushed red, shifting from foot to foot as he looked everywhere in the room except for at her.

“It’s just… Teacher and Mr. Curtis-“

Her jaw dropped at the mention of Izumi and Sig Curtis, and she just stared at him as he fumbled his way through the rest of his words.

“They just returned from a trip up north, Teacher said-“

He continued mumbling, but Winry was no longer listening, her mind racing in wonderment. Was it possible that she had misread Edward, someone she had prided herself on knowing well, so badly?

Edward had been raised in several households. One household had featured an absentee husband and a patient wife. Another one had featured a madly in love couple who regularly took honeymoon trips, frequently up and heading towards whatever corner of Amestris caught their fancy that particular day.

Was that how he saw her? Their relationship? As akin to that of their teacher and her husband? Her heart burst at the thought, and, tossing the photo album aside Winry hauled herself from her seat and threw her arms around Ed’s neck. Surprised at suddenly no longer being in trouble, Ed cautiously returned her embrace, wrapping an arm around her waist as if waiting for Winry’s mood to abruptly swing again.

She pulled away and kissed him right on the tip of his chin. He looked intensely confused, but Winry merely beamed at him.

“I’ll dig out the suitcase,” she announced, leaving Ed bewildered behind her.

* * *


	19. Be Thou Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are depending on him. Greed reminds Ed.
> 
> Warnings for drug use and AUishness along with guesses as to what's going to happen in the manga based upon recent hints in the last couple chapters. Direct follow up to Chapter 9.

* * *

9\. More cocaine to kill the pain

* * *

The mines under the Briggs Mountain range were dark and damp and freezing, but these were the least of Ed’s worries as he bolted down them, trying to keep his footing on ice slicks and panting heavily in the cold air.

Things had been happening fast since Major General Armstrong had finally returned to her base, and now Ed found himself on the run, wondering where Al was, wondering what the homunculi had done with Winry, wondering if it was too late and the bloody crest had already been sculpted above him, wondering so many things and having no solution to any of them.

It was due to his concentration that he missed the low light, flickering in the corridor, until he turned a corner and abruptly skidded to a stop.

“Fullmetal Alchemist!” a bright voice called down the corridor. “Come join me!”

Ed automatically fell into a fighting stance. The homunculus Greed was leaning casually against the wall, wrapped in furs. A small lantern was sitting at his feet, and a long pipe was balanced jauntily between his fingers. The air in the whole area was smoky and smelled funny.

After a moment, when Ed didn’t move, Greed looked up from what he was doing and huffed. “I said join me,” he said impatiently. “We can fight in a minute, if you want, or you could go back the way you came.”

Ed stayed frozen in position, panting shallowly, and finally Greed shrugged. “Fine, stay there. I’m surprised you’re willing to waste time though, with so many people depending on you.”

A low growl tore from Ed’s throat. “Either fight me or get out of my way.”

“Look, I’m not very well wasting some of Xing’s finest here, all right? Only the royals can get this stuff. I’m not going to let you pass, and if you go back you’ll be captured. So you can either join me, or we can sit here and leave your pretty friend wondering which of us is going to come back.”

“Winry! If you hurt her-“ Greed waved off the threat.

“Yeah. Winry. I think she’d like to see you,” Then, after a moment’s thought, added, “’Course, I don’t think she’d object to seeing me again either. Seems like she and the prince had a thing for each other. This guy’s been more bothersome than usual since we picked her up.”

Ed’s head was starting to swim. “Ling?”

“Yeah him. He’s really concerned with this whole automail business. Think that’s why he’s so interested in your lady friend.”

“She’s not – leave Winry out of this!” Ed’s arms had fallen out of their defensive position, and he was leaning forward heavily. He might have fallen over completely if Greed hadn’t chosen that moment to stand up and put a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing the pipe into his hand.

“Try it,” Greed offered. “Join me for a moment and enjoy it, because everything’s going to go to hell pretty quickly here.”

“Already in hell,” Ed murmured, blinking blearily at the pipe before putting it to his lips. “Winry’s in hell – Ling –“

“Yes, yes.” Greed’s patience was wearing thin again as he patted his coat for the little case where he’d been keeping the rest of his opium and his spare pipe. “Winry and Ling. We can talk about all the wonderful things Winry wants to do to Ling later.”

The pipe clattered to the ground, and the roar Ed let out was incoherent as he lurched forward and pulled back a fist fully intent of slugging Greed right in the jaw.

He missed spectacularly and Greed ducked forward, easily throwing Ed over his shoulder. Ed’s limbs promptly stopped working.

“Come on then.” Greed paused long enough to pick up his pipe. It had belonged to the prince, and it was a fine thing indeed, carved intricately out of jade. He didn’t want to lose it. “She’s waiting for you.”

* * *


	20. A Harmless Form of Recreation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed's slightly paranoid, for good reason.
> 
> Contains a barely-there-kind-of hint of Roy/Riza.

* * *

24\. when saints set them the example

* * *

He was in trouble. He knew it – he could feel it in the atmosphere, taste it in the air, and it made him nervous. As much as he loved little Elysia, Ed was starting to regret joining Winry and Al and several large, brightly wrapped gifts for a raucous birthday party at the Hughes’ house.

Al did most of the talking, and Ed stuck close to his brother, greeting people and talking as necessary, but for the most part sipping his drink and sneaking furtive glances at the dining room table out of the corner of his eye.

Winry was seated there, tucked in neatly between Gracia and Riza. The three women were ignoring the organized chaos surrounding them, completely engrossed in one another as they talked animatedly, haphazardly picking at sweets and nursing sweet drinks.

Normally Ed would have had no problem with this situation – he adored Gracia, and had a burgeoning affection (and the utmost respect) for the first lieutenant. But recent events had conspired against him: Riza was now a newlywed, and had yet to lose that newlywed glow. It was a well-known fact that the newlywed glow was contagious among women, and the three at the table were no exception: Riza’s face was flushed with happiness, Gracia’s with nostalgia, and Winry’s with promise.

He didn’t know for sure _how_ he knew they were talking about him. In all honesty, they could have been talking about what adorable thing Elysia had gotten into or Riza’s husband – whom Ed still wouldn’t acknowledge by name – or even about something as mundane as the weather.

They _could_ have been.

He knew they weren’t. He could tell that they were talking about him, by the way their voices were pitched low and flirty, and the way it made anxiety worm through his chest. It put him on edge, strung tight with anticipation as he waited for the bomb to drop.

Al elbowed him hard in the ribs. “What is wrong with you? You were downright rude to Sergeant Broche just now.”

“They’re gossiping about me,” Ed complained, no longer bothering to hide the fact that he was staring – rather rudely – at the trio by that point.

Al scoffed. “No they are not.” He rubbed the back of his head, looking embarrassed for his brother. “You’re imagining things.”

At that moment, however, Al’s attention was stolen by Elysia, so his brother completely missed it when, at once, all three ladies abruptly looked up at Ed. The flush on Winry’s face had become distinctly more pronounced than the other two ladies’.

Ed’s heart skipped a beat.

He was in _so_ much trouble

* * *


	21. Dare to Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry adjusts after the brothers leave again.
> 
> One of the very few fics that I'm doing that purely anime-verse, following Winry after the end of CoS, which I usually prefer to pretend doesn't exist. I wrote this because 1. the prompt begged for it and 2. because I read so many fics where Winry wastes away or pursues alchemy or some crap after the movie, and I'm just so protective of Winry that when I read fics like that I kinda wanna take Winry and hold her and tell her that she doesn't need those silly boys anyway.

* * *

8\. But could be we be together

outside of time

as well as inside?

* * *

For the first twenty four hours after Winry finally returned home she slept. Literally - her train pulled in to Resembool at 11 o clock in the morning, and she made the long walk up to the house, kissed Granny on the forehead, and tumbled into bed, taking only enough time to pull her hair clip out and remove her jacket. She didn't dream – there was only pleasant, all encompassing blackness, and when she woke up it felt like she’d only been asleep for ten minutes.

When she finally dragged herself from bed only to find that it was noon a day later, Winry sat at the kitchen table and allowed Granny to make her lunch. She could tell that Granny was dying to ask what had happened - she only knew the basics: _Ed returned, and left again, with Al_, Winry had whispered to her over the phone in the train station - but Winry didn't want to talk about them yet.

Her mind realized that she was saying goodbye to the Elric brothers, and that she would probably never see them again, but her heart was still catching up. Even with Granny and Den sitting in the same room as her, she felt terribly lonely, which was irrational, because didn't she have friends and family outside of the Elrics?

* * *

It wasn’t until a week later that Granny finally asked her why she hadn't been working on any automail. Winry didn't know how to explain - because she felt lost, because every time she started to work it was only half-heartedly and she was afraid that the automail was weak because of it.

All Winry could do was gape wordlessly at Granny, sitting at her workbench, and the old woman took pity on her, removed the pipe from her mouth, and said gently, "You know just because you can't work on his automail anymore doesn't mean you can't work at all."

And Winry didn't know how to tell her grandmother that it wasn’t because she couldn't work on _his_ automail, it was because _he_ had to work on his own automail now, and could he even take care of it? She hadn’t had much time to look at the junk hanging off of his body those few precious moments she’d had with him, but if that was the best he had to work with, how was he going to take care of those masterpieces she'd slaved over for him?

The thought made Winry scared for him.

Her mind had accepted it, but her heart had not, and selfishly she wondered if either brother ever thought of her, wherever they were now - if Ed was grateful for the lightweight alloy she used or if Al nagged at him properly to maintain it in her place.

* * *

Two days after that it all caught up with her, and that night Winry finally dreamed again - nothing dramatic, just Ed and Al walking down the long path from her home to the train station, two gold ponytails swishing in the summer air. They had no luggage, and Ed was doing that hand wave that she'd always hated, that one over his shoulder because he refused to look back.

When she woke up her pillow was wet and her eyes were swollen, but her heart was finally clear of the blind emotion - a heavy mixture of hope and grief - that had been weighing her down since the radio had blared the report of the earthquake in Lior.

_Ed and Al are together_, she thought, _and they're healthy, and that's all they wanted, isn't it_?

They’d taken a piece of her with them, but she wouldn’t begrudge them what she gave freely. She also knew they wouldn't begrudge her either, so she slipped on her uniform, tied her bandana around her hair with conviction, and hopped down the steps into the kitchen, where Granny was shooing an early customer out the door.

Granny shut the door behind her and turned to look at Winry, standing on the bottom step and smiling gently.

"So..." Winry searched her pockets for her wrench. "Who's our next customer?"

* * *


	22. My Finger on Your Trigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING; MATURE CONTENT
> 
> Ed usually likes to surprise her fresh out of the shower.

* * *

26\. the strong and ephemeral

* * *

He likes to surprise her fresh out of the shower, usually when they’re due to be somewhere or – even better – when they’re running late. She’ll stalk into the bedroom, one towel wrapped in her hair and another around her body, and start rummaging through her dresser drawers or slamming open the sliding door to the closet, which is usually when he drops the book he’s reading and starts watching.

He can’t watch for long, however, because once the towel wrapped around her hair comes off the first thing she reaches for is underwear, which is usually what prompts him into action; he stands up and approaches her from behind, slipping his flesh hand between where the towel is folded and using his automail one to push her wet hair over one shoulder to give him access to her neck.

Winry no longer protests, (“We don’t have time!” she used to insist, not attempting to push his hands away. “We’re going to be late!”) and instead usually tries her best to ignore him at first. Once his hand slips lower, however, she abandons her clothes and instead braces herself against the dresser (or wall, or footboard of the bed, or bookshelf, or wherever he has her pinned), wiggles her hips against him, and lets out a low moan.

The towel around her body is dropped, forgotten, and his automail hand comes over her shoulder and cups her breast – she hisses at the feeling of the cold metal against her shower warmed skin – and he presses harder against her, picking up speed, increasing the tempo before she can gather her thoughts.

The goal is not mutual satisfaction – no, Ed still has to get into the shower himself and he can take care of his own needs there without dirtying her hands – the goal is to push her body over the edge quickly before her mind catches up and understands totally what is happening, before she can even fully break a sweat or try to reciprocate.

When she finally peaks – dresser rattling or books falling – clenching and trembling and groaning in front of him, he holds her for a minute, until he’s sure she won’t collapse from her shaking knees, and then pulls away, pants uncomfortably tight, and picks up a towel before getting into the shower himself, confident in the knowledge that she’ll get him back, maybe later tonight, but most likely the next time she has him laid out on her workbench.

* * *


	23. The Life I Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry doubts not Ed but his name

* * *

43\. We were twins too poor to have the dignity of separate names.

* * *

For so much of her childhood and adolescence Winry Rockbell begrudged the Elric brothers their secrets; pouted and frowned and attempted to coax them from the brothers, who resisted her efforts until everything spilled over and she could step in to clean up.

She felt almost guilty now, as an adult, for keeping a secret of her own, one she knew both brothers, especially Ed, would like to know about.

There was an engagement ring on her finger, and in several months she would walk down the aisle on Al’s arm and become Mrs. Elric. That was how it was supposed to go, and that was how it would go – there was no question in Winry’s mind.

Still, as much as she eagerly anticipated this next stage of her life, there was a little tiny part of her that mourned for what she was leaving behind – most notably, the Rockbell name. It didn’t seem right that she and Granny were the last of the Rockbells – for a name that had inspired respect and fear for generations to fade away in old age and marriage.

And even more important to her, there was so little she had that still connected her to her parents – memories faded, pictures and letters crumbled, but her _name_, her name was always there, a constant strong thread that tied her to those who brought her into the world. More than once she’d blushed and nodded that she was the daughter of the Doctors Rockbell (when she wasn’t not blushing and agreeing that yes, the Pantheress of Risembool _is_ her grandmother…) and it comforted her to know that there were people out there who knew her name, her family, and therefore recognized why she herself might be something special.

(People would still see her as special, but it wouldn’t be automail engineers whispering, “Oh, she’s a _Rockbell_.” It would be alchemists pointing out, “Her? She’s with Elric.”)

But no matter how Winry had these doubts – not about Ed, or their marriage, but about his name – they were never more than a dull ache, a small thought under the commotion that made up their relationship. Easily overcome if not easily left behind.

Some mornings, though. Some mornings Winry stood on the front porch, comparing the glint of the diamond on her left hand with the shine of the Rockbell Automail sign in the rising sun, and wondered which was brighter.

* * *


	24. Where to Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Ed's surgery, Winry and Al share a moment.
> 
> Because as much as I love Ed/Winry, the friendship between the three, particularly between Winry and Al, will always be my favorite aspect of the manga.

* * *

6\. A number, a letter

My love,

I stand naked of my name.

You are softwood and carbon.

Write me into being.

* * *

Al stalked through the upstairs hallway, trying as hard as possible to be quiet, but failing miserably and cringing mentally with each step. There was simply no way for him to be quiet in his awkward armor, no matter how many times Winry oiled the joints for him. No matter how lonely his nights had turned, he still didn’t want to be the one responsible for keeping everyone else awake as well.

“Al?” The armor jostled in surprise at the sound of Winry calling his name. He hadn’t noticed the sliver of light from her bedroom, and with a low creak he pulled the door the rest of the way open to look at the girl, sitting cross legged on her bedroom floor with piles of papers and books surrounding her in any direction.

“I thought I heard you.” Winry greeted him with a tired smile, but her eyes were sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Want to see something?”

Curious, he stepped fully into the room, careful to shut the door behind lest the light and their voices carry out and wake Granny and his brother.

“What is it?” he asked, peering over the ring of papers in front of her to look at the long sheet that she’d unrolled and was holding out proudly.

“It’s the blueprints for Ed’s automail,” she said in a low tone, her eyes still glittering despite the dark circles beginning to form under them. “I just finished them, which means-“

Which meant there could be no more delay in getting Ed’s surgeries underway. As desperate as Al was to start the process of getting his body back, he’d been living in fear of these next few months, while Ed underwent the grueling process of automail installation.

For a moment Al couldn’t bear to look at the blueprints, knowing that in a few weeks time they’d be real and attached to his brother, and when he finally turned his head back to Winry he was surprised to find her staring down at them with an almost wistful look upon her face.

“Don’t tell Ed…” she said slowly, her bangs falling into her eyes and refusing Al eye contact. “But they’re the first ones I’ve designed entirely by myself. Granny’s always done the design and let me help, and let me build them, but – but I wanted to do these ones.”

When Al didn’t respond a blush began to bloom across Winry’s cheeks, and, almost babbling, she added, “It’s just, Ed would probably make fun of me and-“

“It’s okay,” Al cut her off suddenly. “I understand.”

And he did too. He and his brother had lost almost everything in their attempt to transmute their mother, and now they had to try to get it all back. Ed had vowed to restore Al to his body, and in return Al wanted to restore the limbs that Ed had lost, especially the arm given for his benefit.

Al couldn’t fix Ed yet, but Winry could complete him.

“I won’t tell Ed,” he promised gently, before shooing her off to bed.

* * *


	25. The End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has to adjust after returning to Winry again.
> 
> Warning for some maturish content. Direct follow up to Chapter 21. It's set post-CoS, and it's angsty but I'm not sure how seriously you should take it – this was written almost as thumb at the nose of those fics that feature Winry just wasting away as she waits for the brothers to return and just waiting to pick up with them again when they (somehow, inconceivably) return to Amestris from our world once again.

* * *

48.

You have set me among those who are defeated.

I know it is not for me to win, nor to leave the game

* * *

When they got to Rush Valley – after having been informed by _Sheska_ of all people that Winry no longer lived in Risembool – and found her shop, Ed was less than surprised to find it full, packed to capacity with people, all clamoring for her attention.

What surprised him was finding two people working there under the Rockbell name: Winry and her husband.

She’d cried when she’d seen them – of course she had cried, she’d never expected to see them again – and that evening when they’d managed to close up shop she sat with them, tea growing cold in front of them as she alternated between interrogating them about their whereabouts and explaining where she had been in the time since she’d seen them last.

His name was Nathan Carson, and he was a first generation automail engineer, which explained why he worked under the Rockbell name instead of vice versa. He was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed. He and Winry had been married for almost three years, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the pair adored each other.

Al had done most of the talking and questioning in return, while Ed tried to adjust what he was seeing to what he’d been expecting, returning to Winry after over five years.

He was… _relieved_. All his life he’d cursed his father for leaving his mother, and back in Munich, when he’d actually studied the automail she’d fitted him with underground in Central and realized the labor of love it had been, the guilt he’d felt had been almost overwhelming. Was there no person he cared about who hadn’t been affected by his sin? He was no better than Hohenheim, leaving her behind the way he had.

But Winry was not his mother. Winry hadn’t wasted away, waiting for and wanting something she never expected to have again. Winry had built a new life, and even though she lived in remembrance of the way it used to be – he had seen the childhood pictures tacked up around the workshop – she wasn’t a living monument to it.

It was almost enough to make him feel _redeemed_.

Later that night he was sprawled across her workbench as she measured him for a new arm – many, many things had changed, but other things never changed, and it appeared Winry’s sleeping habits still included all-nighters to fill important orders – and as she studied the port still anchored in his shoulder she’d glanced up and met his serious gaze.

That was all it took. The next thing he knew she was on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing his shoulders down against the hard bench, the end of her ponytail tickling his flesh arm as she kissed him fervently, nipping at his mouth and demanding access.

It all happened so fast – they made love, in the low light of the lamp above her workstation; frantic, desperate love that left both their bodies slick with sweat and their golden hair tangled as she buried her face in his neck and rode out the dizzying, intense love for him that she’d forced herself to bury long ago.

When it was over – far too quickly, for Ed’s taste – she lay on top of him, panting and still trembling, silent as Ed reflected that her choice of location couldn’t be more appropriate – how much of their shared life had revolved around the bench where she’d taken care of his automail?

And then with a small moan Winry pushed herself up, pulling her bra back down over herself and rolling away from him. He watched her for a moment, unsure what to say or how to feel, and he saw as she bit her lip and looked at the door, the door that led upstairs to where his brother and her husband lay sleeping.

Her _husband_.

Ed fumbled with the waistband of his boxers, crushing guilt settling over his chest like a lead weight. He’d thought she had redeemed him. He’d thought she could be a savior of sorts, living proof that he wasn’t as bad as his father, that he hadn’t left behind the woman he could have loved to wilt away waiting for him.

He was wrong. In deciding she could be his savior, he had instead dragged her down to his level, making her a sinner like him.

Before he could tear his eyes away from her, she looked back at him, and something strange flickered in her eyes as she gazed steadily at him, her face showing nothing but cool, unrepentant acceptance of their actions and calm understanding of his feelings about them. Ed closed his eyes and looked away.

He knew he’d be gone in the morning.

He knew she knew the same.

* * *


	26. What Tomorrow’s Bringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed struggles to redefine his relationship with Winry.
> 
> Explores the (unlikely?) scenario of Ed actually getting his flesh and blood arm and leg back.

* * *

22\. potentiality knocks on the door of my heart

* * *

Ed never thought he’d find himself missing automail.

Although in all honesty it wasn’t automail itself that he missed as much as the _opportunities_ it had provided.

When he’d had automail, he’d been so busy trying to get _rid_ of the automail that he hadn’t thought about the little impact it had on his life; namely, the way it had bonded him to Winry.

She had been his mechanic. This had meant spending a lot of time together, maintaining and upgrading and repairing his arm and leg. Her touch had always been sure, unwavering, and confident. He had most often been stripped down to his boxers. Any and all awkwardness had to have been discarded quickly, merely for the sake of their mutual sanity.

But now she wasn’t his mechanic anymore, and just when Ed had found that he wanted to spend more time with Winry, he’d lost his best reason to.

There were always a variety of ways to describe Winry and his relationship to her, but the most reliable, the most comforting to him, had always been “mechanic” and now that was gone and while Ed was interested in assigning her a new role he had no idea how to go about doing that. It seemed to him that Winry had also sensed this new awkwardness, this uncertainty about what to do or how to act around him, because on the occasions they’d touched – brief hugs and gentle caresses around the joints of his newly restored limbs – she’d almost trembled, insecure and uncomfortable.

Al only exacerbated the situation, and if Ed weren’t so overwhelmingly happy for his brother, newly restored to his frail human body, he would have been the tiniest bit jealous of the way Al so easily swept Winry into hugs and looped his arms through hers as they walked and even how he ran his fingers through her hair when it was down and loose and Al couldn’t resist the silky sensation through his fingers.

He couldn’t be too jealous though – it would be expected of Al. It wasn’t expected of _him_, and finally, frustrated, Ed resolved to take a cue from his brother. After a week of nervous tries and near-misses, however, he lost the chance forever because Winry took it from him.

One afternoon they were sidling down the pathway to the market, intent on picking up some groceries for that night’s dinner. One moment their shoulders were brushing, and the next thing Ed knew her bare arm had wrapped around what was once his automail arm, her hand clasping his - loosely, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted.

He was too shocked to do so, and after a nervous glance in her direction – where she was blushing furiously and determinedly not looking at him, worried about both rejection and acceptance – he tightened his grip and continued on as if nothing special had happened.

Winry’s hand was trembling, and her grip stayed light and nervous the entire walk to the market. Conversation slowed to a trickle until the tilted canvas coverings of the fruit stalls came into view, but even despite this Ed was surprised by how much better he felt. Awkwardness would continue for a while, before it was discarded. New roles would be tried out and then assigned, and eventually, Winry’s touch would turn confident again.

* * *


	27. The Golden Hind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed learns the value of knocking before he enters a room.

* * *

39\. Take aim like Artemis

* * *

The grass was cool beneath her bare feet as she moved steadily and purposefully through the field; there was no need to rush, since she knew she'd catch her prey eventually.

Her hound was beside her, running circles around her legs while staying alert; already he was starting to grow more excited as he scented his prey and realized that it was coming closer.

The grounds were dark, but that didn't matter because the moon was full and provided more than enough light to guide them. She could hear it now, crashing through the brush, and slowed her gait, knowing that silence was of the utmost importance; if her prey sensed her it would flee, merely prolonging its agony.

She broke through a row of cypress trees and sighted it; beside her, the hound started bawling. With her arm pulled back, she took careful aim and released-

Ed grunted as Winry's wrench connected with the back of his skull, and hit the ground hard, nose smashing into the grass and dirt. He groaned and rolled onto his back, colors dancing before his eyes as the mechanic stalked up to him. She had thrown on a white nightdress, but her hair was still soaking wet, plastered to her shoulders, hanging in her hard eyes. Her mouth was drawn down into a distinct frown. Den licked his face happily.

She brandished a second wrench. Ed flinched as she planted a foot square in the middle of his chest and leaned down towards him.

"Don't you ever, _ever_, walk into that bathroom without knocking, _ever_ again," she hissed, brandishing her weapon.

"Never! Never!" he agreed frantically, feeling the heat rise up in his face as he remembered barging into the bathroom, only to find Winry curled up in the tub, the suds in her hair streaked black with oil as she scrubbed.

Her lip curled, and she stared him down a moment longer before turning around and flouncing back towards the house. “Come on, Den,” she called over her shoulder.

Ed just lay there for another moment, in shock. She hadn’t killed him. With a relieved sigh he sat up, rubbing the back of his head and eyeing her retreating form carefully.

He was pretty sure she knew he’d walked in by accident.

He was also pretty sure she’d leave the door unlocked again tomorrow.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of one of my favorite myths, wherein the hunter Actaeon stumbled upon the virgin goddess Artemis and her ladies bathing; unlike Winry, who showed some semblance of mercy, Artemis turned the hunter into a stag and had his own hunting hounds maul him.


	28. Lesson to Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men like Mustang and the Elric Brothers are all the same.
> 
> Manga-verse, set just before the little tea party in chapter 56.

* * *

7\. Approximately the same kind and density

* * *

The problem with men like Roy Mustang and the Elric brothers was that they had a hard time seeing all the outcomes, especially once they made up their mind about something.

Thankfully, his position as the Fuher meant that he often took care of such trivialities for them.

Roy Mustang had made up his mind to change his country, and upon finding out about the Fuhrer’s true identity as a homunculus, had not foreseen the consequences of storming into Headquarters and confronting him.

Edward and Alphonse Elric had made up their minds to get their bodies back, and had chased after every lead dangled in front of their faces without thought, even after the Fuhrer had personally warned them against pursuing unnecessary knowledge.

The good thing about men like Roy Mustang and the Elric brothers was that there was an easy solution to the problem they created. Threats against their own selves were useless; they were self-sacrificing almost to a fault – but threaten something, someone, close to them, threaten to stain their vision of a glorious triumph with blood, and they were frightened into inaction.

Thankfully, his position as the Fuher meant that he could take care of that, too.

With a flourish, he added his signature – a personal signature, and not the stamp that his secretary usually used – to the transfer orders assigning Riza Hawkeye to his personal staff. Just as he was capping the pen, an aide slipped a piece of paper onto his desk. Without looking, he knew it contained a phone number and an address with a Rush Valley mailing code.

Men like Roy Mustang and the Elric brothers were all the same.

* * *


	29. Breaking Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed hated him the instant he laid eyes upon him.

* * *

14\. An aspiring villain from the start

* * *

The first time Ed laid eyes on Benjamin Walker, he hated him. Instantly. He hated his dumb wavy hair, he hated his dumb smile, he hated his dumb disarmingly charming demeanor, and most of all he hated the way Ben had laughed when Winry had cracked a joke about using 2 grade wire on finger joints, because, unlike Ed, _Benjamin had actually gotten the joke_.

It wasn’t that Ed was stupid – he was well aware that Winry was something of an anomaly, a young woman working in automail, and he was well aware that, living in Rush Valley, it was more than likely that Winry would run into other automail engineers who were young men. Winry had never been the type to have girlfriends, so it wasn’t other men associating with Winry that upset him.

What upset him was the way Ben hung around Garfield’s as much as he could, whenever his own master gave him time; the easygoing way he leaned against the counter towards Winry while they chatted; how fascinated he was with Winry’s custom designs, and the genuine way Winry laughed when she talked to him.

He was earnest and polite and even if he and Winry occasionally bickered – about who had the best master or what were the best metals to use – even Al defended him when Ed had complained about him. Winry’s customers especially didn’t mind when Ben was hanging around the shop, compared to the dirty looks they _still_ shot Ed.

And what upset Ed most of all was the way Winry had laughed when Ed had suggested that Ben’s intentions were less than honorable.

“What are you _talking_ about?” she’d asked incredulously, wiping tears of mirth away from one eye. “Ben’s just into automail like me. Besides, you’re not always in the city, and I like talking to him.”

“I don’t like him,” Ed had insisted.

“You don’t like anybody,” Winry had scoffed, and then the argument had gone to a whole new level and Ben had been left behind for the time being.

Still, the guy was like a canker sore. Ed couldn’t forget about him or leave him alone, and he grew more volatile the more Ben hung around.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he sneered one afternoon when the bell above the door jangled and Ben’s face appeared.

Ben looked vaguely perplexed at Ed’s hostility. “I just wanted to talk to Winry-“

“Oh yeah you wanted to talk to her huh? I’m sure that’s _all_ you wanted!” If Al had been there, he would have been proud of the fact that Ed wasn’t yelling yet. And then he would have diffused the situation.

To Ed’s eternal irritation, Ben just smiled gently and laughed a little bit. “Look, I know you and Al are like Winry’s brothers and that you’re really protective of her, but I’m not screwing around, honest. I like her.”

“I am _not_ Winry’s brother!” Ed bellowed, the sound of his shouting apparently attracted Winry’s attention, because she appeared right as Ed gesticulated wildly and shouted, “And you are _not_ dating her!”

“Edward!” The sound of her voice jarred him out of his rage, and he wheeled around to see that she had flushed angrily. “I told you, Ben’s not like that! He’s just my friend. Leave him alone!”

“Um, actually – Winry – “ Ben shuffled awkwardly.

“What?” her eyebrows creased as she observed Ben’s nervous posture. All the poor boy could do was continue to stutter awkwardly, and understanding dawned suddenly on Winry’s face. “You really _did_ want to ask me out?”

“Ah – well –“

“HA!” Ed shouted, throwing an arm out towards Ben. “See? I told you! I told you!”

Winry ignored him, just staring at Ben, utterly speechless. Ben, to his credit, also managed to ignore Ed, taking an unsure step towards Winry – who rocked back nervously – before withdrawing, and stammering out, “J-just think about it, okay? I’ll come see you again later,” before fleeing.

As soon as the bell jingled again Winry sagged, leaning hard against the counter and burying her face in her hands.

“See? See?” Ed continued to rant in triumph. “Didn’t I tell you? I told you he was up to no good! Why didn’t you listen to me?!”

“How could I think he liked me, Ed?” Winry snapped. “He treats me the same way _you_ do.”

Every single muscle in Ed’s body froze; his eyes widened and his face flushed, up to the point where even the tips of his ears were burning.

When no returning argument was forthcoming, Winry finally looked up, saw Ed’s expression, and _knew_. Her eyes widened like Ed’s, but instead of flushing all the blood drained from her face, leaving her pale and white.

Finally she found a word.

“_Oh_.”

* * *


	30. Once the Foundation’s Cracked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry learns to read the Elric Brothers.
> 
> Manga-verse, taking place (partially) during Chapter 9.

* * *

16\. Do not raise your voice against me, I am not afraid of your

anthem although the lyrics are still bleeding from the

bark of my sapless heart.

* * *

She can still remember the night the brothers burned their house so clearly – the heat washing over her, the occasional spark popping against flesh despite Granny’s attempts to keep all three children back, the way Ed smiled uneasily at her when he noticed her crying, and most of all how sad she felt for Ed and Al, having no home to go back to.

Winry knows why they did it, the sacrifice they had to make to correct their mistakes, but the act still hurt her heart, and it only grew worse through the years as the brothers set off on their journey and phone calls and letters were short in coming even if maintenance trips happened with nerve wracking regularity.

She understands why, but she still wishes Ed and Al could be more considerate, could remember the people in Resimbool waiting for them. Despite the fact that her very deepest desire is for the brothers to return to her fully restored to flesh, it still hurts her every time Ed boasts that he can’t wait until he will no longer need her anymore.

It isn’t until the next time they yell at her that she finally understands. The earrings are blatant bribes, she’s well aware of that, but they can’t fake concern and the look of horror on Ed’s face and the way Al screeches at her at the way she’s pierced her ears makes her realize:

They still need her. They still care. They still have a home. They just need to convince themselves they don’t in order to step forward without regret.

Things get easier after that. It’s easier to wave goodbye, to ignore Ed’s claims of no longer needing her or Granny. By the time the brothers bring Major Armstrong home, she’s more than adjusted to the situation, and though she is grateful to Al for confirming that she and Granny are still home to the brothers – he’s always been far more considerate than his brother – she is less than surprised to hear Ed the next morning, asserting that they are wanderers and can’t be bothered to drop back at the Rockbell house for a meal.

Several years ago that statement would have torn at Winry, forcing her to blink back tears as she said goodbye to them. This time, however, Winry knows better, and with a roll of her eyes she calls to the brothers and waves half-heartedly. “See ya.”

And she knows she will, too.

* * *


	31. Follow Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MATURE(ISH) CONTENT
> 
> And the first they slept together – that had been the most embarrassing.
> 
> The incident referenced in Chapter 12.

* * *

19\. An ancient game of virgin sacrifice

* * *

There were certain moments in a boy’s life that were supposed to be epic milestones – points in time when a boy was not a boy, but a man; when the child inside disappeared and all that remained was the adult.

Of course, by the time Edward Elric reached the milestone considered most important to the majority of other men, he’d already attempted human transmutation, endured automail surgery on two limbs, passed the State Alchemist exam at an obscenely early age, fought undead monsters, unlocked the secrets of the Philosopher’s Stone and the Gate, and restored his brother’s hollow body to flesh.

It was funny that he hadn’t been nearly as nervous during those trials as he was when faced with the event of actually losing his virginity.

Beneath him, Winry whimpered and shifted a little, and Ed felt his heart stop.

Naturally, he’d read up on the subject – torn madly through the books, actually, when they’d finally decided to do the deed – and he knew that he was going to end up making Winry uncomfortable, and sore, but… he didn’t want to _hurt_ her, damnit!

Still, he knew he would be all right if he went slowly, and gently; and keeping a careful eye on her face and her reactions, he did just that, fighting desperately not to lose himself to the sensations overtaking him that he _knew_ were not the same for her.

Winry did not relax; indeed, her eyes clenched even tighter and her eyebrows creased a little as she bit her lip and moved her hips a bit against him.

Ed froze. His hormones, already mixed into an impossible cocktail of arousal, anxiety, and slight embarrassment, coalesced into panic. There were many, many things he wanted to ask, “Are you okay?” and “Do you want me to keep going?” merely two amongst their number.

What he ended up blurting out, however, was, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

For a moment there was stillness, and silence. Then Winry’s eyes flew open, and, through gritted teeth, she ground out, “You waited until _now_ to say that?”

In his own shock – he hadn’t _meant_ to say those words – all he could do was mouth wordlessly at her, and a moment later Winry had balled her fists and was beating at his shoulders, pushing him away.

“Get off of me!” she was shrieking, nails scrabbling against his automail shoulder. “Get out of me! Get off!”

Ed withdrew immediately, rocking back onto his knees and holding his hands up to stave off her hits. As soon as his weight was gone she backed up, scooting back towards the headboard of the bed and pulling a pillow into her lap, burying her face in it.

She was trembling – hell, he was too – and after a moment, still speaking through clenched teeth, she muttered, “If you still had doubts about this whole thing you should have told me before now.”

“I didn’t!” he exclaimed defensively, talking too fast in his alarm. “I don’t! You… uh…” Ed rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “You didn’t look like you were _enjoying_ it.”

Her face was still buried in the pillow. The only sound in the room was the barely noticeable noise of his breathing. After a moment she sighed and looked back up at him – her eyes were wider than usual, and her cheeks flushed – and said, somewhat more calmly than before, “That’s usually how it goes the first time, Ed. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah.” He was so embarrassed he had wilted, his stomach roiling so badly he wondered if he would be sick. “I just – I don’t want to hurt you.”

Winry sighed again. “Oh, Ed.”

Ed refused to look at her, uneasily tracing the pattern of the comforter with one hand as he looked at the floor, convinced he’d never be able to maintain an erection ever again.

After a moment she reached for him, cupping one cheek with her hand and pulling him in for a kiss. Her tongue brushed his, he remembered that she was naked, and Ed suddenly found that he could quite easily recover his libido.

She drew him over her, wiggling underneath him, and he pulled away to lick his lips nervously. “W-Winry-?“

Winry merely shook her head and pressed her lips against his again. “Don’t talk this time, Ed.”

* * *


	32. Protect and Preserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is slow and Winry has a short temper, but Al will take care of them.
> 
> Direct follow up to Chapter 8

* * *

51.

Why are men such fools they will not realize

The wisdom that is hidden behind those strange eyes?

And these wonderful people are you and I.

* * *

When Riza ran into Al again, he was standing in front of a shaved ice stall, his back to the vendor as he squinted his eyes, clearly studying something, idly picking at the little bowl of cherry ice that was half-eaten and starting to melt in his hand.

“Hello, Alphonse,” she greeted pleasantly, and Al tilted his head back, though his eyes still stayed on whatever he was studying. “What are you looking at?”

He finally tore his eyes away to give her a warm smile. “Hi Lieutenant. I’m just waiting for Ed to ruin the moment.”

“Hm?” Unable to help her curiosity, she stepped forward to peer over Al’s shoulders, and finally saw what he was talking about.

Lying on the sloped banks that led to the river were Edward and Winry. Winry was lying on her stomach, the hem of her blue summer dress fanned out gracefully around her knees, and loosely clasping her hand was a recumbent Edward. Riza couldn’t see Ed’s face, but she could see the smile and the giggle on Winry’s, her eyes locked with his as they discussed something playfully.

Riza’s eyebrows crossed. “They aren’t – are they - ?” Surely, Roy would have said something if the pair were dating. He was always looking to needle Fullmetal with _something_.

With a laugh, Al shook his head. “They’re getting there, but it’s slow going with Ed.” There was a short pause, while Alphonse shuffled his feet awkwardly – Winry tossed her hair and leaned closer to Ed – and then he added, “Ed’s rushed through a lot of things. He rushed through automail surgery and he rushed through the State Alchemist exam. It probably would have taken us years longer to get my body back if we hadn’t run around the country the way we did, but Ed didn’t mind the rush because he was so confident about everything he did – even when he was uncertain about the process or the path we were on, he was always so sure about the _outcome_.”

Riza nodded at Al’s words, suddenly remembering Roy telling her of a twelve year-old Edward Elric, pointing a spear at the chin of the Fuhrer of Amestris during his state qualification exam.

“Well…”Al was once again watching the pair raptly. “Ed has no confidence with Winry yet. So,” he shrugged and took another bite from the cherry ice, staining his lips red, “he’s taking it slow.”

For a moment the pair stood there in silence, charmed by the scene on the riverbank in front of them. Then Al blinked, murmured, “Whoop, there it is,” then turned back to the vendor and ordered two more shaved ices.

Sure enough, down in the grass Winry was now frowning and pushing herself up, her face flushing. Ed was trying to sit up and grab at Winry’s arm at the same time, clearly trying to correct whatever mistake he’d made.

“Don’t worry,” Al told her, almost cheerfully, pushing past her cradling the shaved ices. “I’ll take care of them.” Then he paused and looked back at her, adding almost slyly, “If you’re looking for the Colonel, we saw him getting cotton candy a little while ago.”

Riza flushed red. Al just smiled and bid her a good evening before returning his attention to the squabbling teenagers on the bank.

* * *


	33. A Good Idea at the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not uncommon for the groom to get cold feet.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 10 and Chapter 15.

* * *

25\. less remain in one place

* * *

It had just been a moment – the priest had knocked on the door, wanting to confirm that Al had Ed prepared and Al had stepped out of the tiny room behind the altar to confer with him. Ed had only been alone in the room for all of thirty seconds. When Al finally stepped back into the room, it was to find Ed standing at the tiny window, fumbling with the latch in a clear panic.

“Brother!” Al bellowed, somewhat higher-pitched than he’d meant to. He should have known – Ed had been far too calm most of the morning, considering he was about to get married.

“I thought I could do it but I can’t, Al,” Ed was babbling as he yanked at the rusted latch. “Just – just tell Winry I’m sorry-“

“Ed, stop that,” Al said calmly, striding across the room to grip one of Ed’s wrists before the thought of using alchemy crossed his mind.

“Let me go Al,” Ed said, trying to wrench his arm away. Al held firm.

“You can’t do this Ed,” Al said firmly, snapping his neck back to avoid a blow from Ed’s flailing left hand. “Think of the consequences. Winry will _cry_.”

“She’ll stop,” Ed said shortly, almost wrestling Al and managing to get a grip on the curved latch once again.

“Teacher will _kill_ you,” Al added, not wanting to injure the groom on his wedding day but wondering if he’d be forced to.

“If she can _find_ me,” Ed snarled, letting go of the latch to plant an arm firmly on Al’s face so he could push him away. Al stumbled back and Ed renewed his struggle with the stubborn window.

“Mustang will never let you live it down!” Al abruptly blurted out.

Instantly, Ed calmed. Though still flushed, his face was sober. After readjusting his tie and patting his jacket, he cleared his throat and said, almost serenely, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Like a warden might escort a prison guard, Al maneuvered Ed out of the tiny room and deposited him safely in front of the altar before continuing on to the back of the church to retrieve the bride. It was only the assurance that Ed would not bolt in front of an audience – an audience that included Mustang, and Izumi Curtis, and several of the Rockbell’s larger, burlier customers – that let Al leave Ed behind confidently.

Winry and Riza were in the priest’s office, hastily converted into a makeshift bridal suite with a full-length mirror, several cushy chairs, and a myriad of girly things strewn about the place. Al was intensely grateful for Riza’s presence. He could keep a cool head in a tense situation, but Riza had provided much needed backup these past chaotic weeks as the date of the wedding had drawn closer.

So he couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped when he opened the door and failed to see what he had expected; namely, a relaxed Riza and a giddy Winry waiting eagerly to get started.

What he actually found was Winry with her silky white dress hiked up above her knees, one pale leg hanging as she straddled the windowsill and argued heatedly with Riza. Riza had both arms wrapped around the one of Winry’s still in the building, trying to tug her back into the room without damaging the delicate beading of her dress.

“You are not jilting Ed,” Riza’s voice was calm and soothing with a distinct edge of alarm.

“You don’t understand!” The alarm in Riza’s voice had nothing on the pure panic in Winry’s. “There are _people_ out there! A _lot_ of people! I can’t do this!”

Al cleared his throat nosily and called, “Excuse me.”

Both women abruptly ceased their struggles to look at Al.

“…Al?” Winry asked anxiously, pale in the face and her eyes wide with terror.

Al merely sighed and rolled his eyes before stepping forward to assist Riza. “You and Ed deserve each other, you know that?”

* * *


	34. Matter of Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry vents. Riza understands, better then either would like to admit.
> 
> Manga-verse, mentioning basic spoilers for Chapter 76 (and as early as Chapter 39, if that matters).

* * *

42\. Darling, we'll be an army of two

* * *

It’s not until everything is said and done that Winry ever gets to talk to her about it – the stomach-dropping, limb-shaking, breath-stealing fear, the desperation that everything was going to end right in front of her and she’d be helpless to do anything – and when she finally did, she knew Riza understood completely.

Winry could tell that Riza had been surprised to learn that she knew what had taken place in the battle with Lust, but had been quickly placated to learn that Alphonse had diverged only the barest of details – that they had believed Roy to be dead and that Al had stepped in front of Riza when Roy had shown up again.

It was then that Winry had told her everything that had happened in the North – with Kimbley, and Scar, and Al’s soul and Ed’s body – and how she’d feared that both brothers were lost to her forever.

When she finished they both sat there, and after a moment Riza admitted quietly, “I emptied three clips into the homunculus.”

“I couldn’t even do that,” Winry lamented, equally soft. “All I could do was sit there and yell and watch.”

They both lapsed into silence then, but there really wasn’t any need for words. Both knew what the other had gone through, what they had felt. It was the risk they had known they were taking, following the men they’d chosen.

Riza had recognized the girl as a kindred spirit during their very first meeting, when she had begged Riza not to let the military take Ed and Al away. Riza had tried, as gently as she could, to make the girl understand that the brothers would make their choice and all she could do was follow; certainly, she had struggled with the choices Roy had made in his desire to become Fuhrer, but she always understood why he made the choices he did. Riza was relieved when Winry had offered her hand when they’d gone to leave. Winry would understand the brothers’ choices as well.

It was the struggles they had each endured that Riza was thinking off – of the hours at the shooting range and the long nights working on automail - and as she blankly watched Black Hayate sniffing experimentally at Winry’s leg she mused thoughtfully, “It’s ridiculous what people will put themselves through to take care of someone they love.”

Next to her, Winry sighed and kicked lazily at a rock on the ground. “We have to,” she grumbled. “God knows they can’t take care of themselves.”

* * *


	35. Common Courtesy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed tries in vain to distract Winry.

* * *

28\. sleight of hand and twist of fate

* * *

She was working when he came up from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply.

Winry ignored him, and continued working, waiting patiently for him to get it out of his system so that she could go back to work in peace. She was absolutely swamped, up to her elbows in wires and bolts, working furiously as she scrambled to finish wiring a knee joint before Mr. Foster came in to repair his wrist after lunch, and after that there was a consultation with a potential automail client…

Therefore, it was with irritation rather than arousal that Winry sighed a minute later, as Ed’s hands slowly started to move, tracing circles around her stomach and reaching up to brush her hair away from her neck.

“Ed,” she said quietly. Ed promptly mistranslated her simple utterance as “God, yes, do please continue,” as he murmured something incomprehensible back, laying gentle kisses down her neck to her bared shoulders.

What Winry had trying to say, however, was, “I’m in the middle of work, so please get off of me.”

Subtlety was always lost on Ed.

She shrugged and turned in his arms, bracing herself against his chest and trying to push him away. “I’m in the middle of work,” she said, crossing her eyebrows. “Please get off of me.” He persisted, and she added, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Winry…” he whined, entirely undeterred. He took advantage of facing her front to bend forward and brush his lips against hers, letting his hands dip under the waist where her mechanics jumpsuit was tied off.

“Ed…” she whined right back, setting her elbows again and trying to put him off, though there was entirely too little fight in her protests. “I really don’t have time,” she tried to explain between kisses, but it was a losing battle.

The next thing she knew she was backed up against the bench, one hand curled in the front of Ed’s jacket, the other one tangled in his braid as they kissed furiously, Ed leaning hard into her, their hips flush as he pressed his body against hers.

Winry’s mind started to grow hazy, and just as she started to lose herself totally to the moment, they shifted and something sharp pressed into her back. When she shifted again, it got worse and it took Winry a second to realize that it was her screwdriver.

The pain took her out of the moment, and with a small grunt of dissent she attempted to wiggle her way out from under Ed. “Wait, Ed,” she groaned, turning her head away when he simply tried to cover her objections with another kiss. She really had a lot of work to do, work that had to be done _that_ day.

He ignored her, settling for returning to her earlobe and neck and with a sigh Winry ran her hands down his chest, parting his jacket and pulling it over his shoulders. He shrugged it off without thought, and with satisfaction Winry ran her hands over his now bare arms.

Ed was far too focused on what he was doing, namely trying to figure out the easiest way to get Winry’s pants off without lifting her from the table, and therefore didn’t notice what Winry was doing until he heard the familiar click and hiss coupled with the strange tugging sensation and the sudden loss of balance that indicated that he was now missing a limb.

“Winry!” he rocked back, dangerously off balance and Winry reached out and firmly took his flesh arm, setting him to rights. The other hand was still cradling his automail arm, and the look on her face was unbearably smug. “Give that back!”

“I told you,” she informed him as she easily danced away from his searching hand. “I have a lot of work to do today.”

“Give me back my damn arm!” he commanded, lunging for her.

Winry stood her ground, using his arm to point to the door to her workshop. “Out. Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I’ll just hold onto this until I’m done.”

* * *


	36. Midnight Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry's late night thoughts on Ed.
> 
> Companion to Chapter 37

* * *

2\. let x be the value of he who lies beside me

* * *

It was a good thing Winry wasn’t asleep – wasn’t even close to falling asleep – because a kick to the back of her knee surely would have woken her up. For a half moment she was pleased with herself – her wiring of his nerves was so fine-tuned that they even responded to those little impulses, unconscious reflexes like tossing and turning – and then irritation settled in.

Sure, she and Ed had fallen asleep together before; there were times they’d woken curled up on the couch after a storm or when they’d dozed off together after fooling around, and once before anything was official between them they’d woken up in the same bed after a particularly wild Yule party hosted by Mustang (“Fully clothed! _Fully clothed_!” Ed was quick to point out when Winry had started pelting him) but they’d never before actually _chosen_ to go to bed together. As in, to get ready and get into bed and fall asleep. Together.

Winry was seriously starting to give the choice second thoughts as Ed let out a snore and rolled over, kneeing her in the back. Wasn’t he _nervous_? Wasn’t this supposed to _mean_ something? Some new level or aspect to their relationship that hadn’t been there before? They certainly had most of the physical stuff down, but stuff like this – stuff that actually made them a _couple_ had been a little bit slower in coming.

She should have seen this coming, she decided, laying stiff as a board and staring into the darkness of the room. Honestly. She had _known_ Ed was a restless sleeper when he wasn’t totally exhausted. She should have been able to predict this.

And it wasn’t something that was likely to change any time soon. She was just going to have to get used to it.

Next to her, Ed shifted again and kicked out, this time nailing her in the calf. With his automail foot.

Winry sighed, then rolled over and kicked back.

* * *


	37. Morning Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed wakes first in the morning. It's not a pretty picture.
> 
> Companion to Chapter 36.

* * *

29\. the kind of April morning no other month can touch

* * *

Ed was surprised when he woke up first the next morning – he could sleep so hard he was practically comatose and Winry usually had early appointments – but he really didn’t mind as he sat up a bit and sighed, taking in a deep breath of the fresh spring air breezing in through the open window before turning an appreciative eye towards Winry.

There wasn’t much to appreciate. Winry was laying on her back, her long hair tangled and strewn in absolutely every direction, the sheets tangled and wrapped between her legs, effectively trapping her in position. She was breathing through her mouth, snoring lightly. He could make out the crusty stuff he’d brushed from his own eyes upon wakening.

_That_ was the sight he was going to have to get used to for the rest of his life.

For a moment Ed sat there, watching with a grimace, and then he snorted and rolled over, intending to shut the window before the inevitable storms started and soaked the rug.

Something caught his eye as he padded across the carpet, and he stopped to examine his flesh leg in the yellow light of the dawning sun.

There were two bruises blooming on his lower leg, one just below his knee and again on his calf. Frowning, Ed prodded them carefully and hissed at the dull pain.

“Where did those come from?” he wondered. Behind him, Winry snorted and kicked at the sheets in her sleep.

* * *


	38. Closing the Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed gets a firsthand glimpse of Winry's life in Rush Valley. Naturally, he disapproves.

* * *

18\. Rage at the rage unblest

* * *

It had been a last minute decision to catch a late afternoon train out of Central instead of the red-eye like he’d been planning – had decided to check the books he’d been reading out of the library instead of wasting an evening parked in his favorite nook – and as he worked his way through the crowded streets of Rush Valley, pointedly ignoring the automail workers propositioning him, he couldn’t help feeling a little smug, excited about surprising Winry when she wasn’t expecting him until the next afternoon.

When he approached the shop, he was less than surprised to see the lights still on downstairs, though the sign on the door was firmly turned to ‘closed’. He was surprised, however, to find that the door was open, finally trying to jiggle the knob after knocking several times to no response.

What he had expected – Winry crouched over her workbench, swearing under her breath – was nowhere to be found. What he did see, however, was the workroom, rearranged with the benches and racks of tools shoved into the corners to make room for a round card table and the six people currently crowded around it.

Winry was seated across from the doorway, studying the cards in her hand. There was a cigar hanging from the corner of her mouth, drooping with her frown. Ed found himself staring at the thing in shock, gaping wordlessly as she threw down her cards and announced that she was folding.

One of the men seated next to her elbowed her. “Guess that means Paninya has a good hand, right?”

Winry protested the dig (“We hardly ever cheat!”), waggling the cigar at him and leaning back casually in her chair. Then she caught sight of Ed, standing shocked in the doorway.

For a moment there was silence, and then Paninya smiled easily at him and called, “Hi, Ed!” just as Winry stood up, the cigar falling out of her open mouth to plop onto the table as she stammered, “E-Ed! You’re early!”

Ed merely continued to goggle, utterly out of his element, and Winry, half-babbling with embarrassment, seized one arm and started to drag him to the stairs. “It’s far too late to get you into a hotel, let me get you settled upstairs-“

“What was that?” he demanded as she yanked him up the concrete steps. He’d not only found his voice, he’d found the blind outrage that came along with stumbling into Winry’s shop to find her acting utterly out of character. “Who were those guys? What are you doing?”

Winry was blushing, her teeth gritted as they navigated the dark hallway. “Shut up before you wake up Master Garfield,” she hissed. “And Monday is poker night. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. What were you doing storming in here early?”

“I _thought_ you’d be _happy_!” he hissed right back, his ire rising. “I didn’t expect to find you sitting around with those guys, acting like-“

“Like what?” she snarled, her eyes flashing. “Like I always do with my friends here?”

Ed fell into silence, and Winry flicked on the lights to the spare bedroom, holding the door open for Ed. “You have no reason to be mad at me,” she informed him curtly, before turning around and clattering back down the steps.

For a couple of minutes Ed sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor and trying to figure out exactly what he was so mad at. He certainly hadn’t expected to be greeted in this way - but things rarely went the way he expected.

Which was probably where part of his problem was – there was very little in his life that was sure and secure, and Winry was one of the few exceptions. No one else in his life was such a reassuring presence – Winry and her smile, Winry and her familiar scent, Winry and her automail. He hadn’t even known that she’d _had_ friends in Rush Valley.

That admission made him feel guilty – what had he thought she’d been doing? She couldn’t work on automail every single hour of the day, no matter how hard she tried.

With a sigh he stood up and softly made the trek back downstairs. Standing at the threshold, he took a moment to watch as Paninya took the pot, Winry giggling the whole time. Then she looked up and noticed him once again, and the frown returned.

Ed ignored her face, instead choosing to grab a chair. Paninya scooted, making room for him at the table, and he gratefully squeezed in, raising an eyebrow at Winry.

“Well, deal me in already,” he coolly ordered, gesturing to the cards.

* * *


	39. Mad for Awhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Winry frighten strangers.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 10, Chapter 15, and Chapter 33.

* * *

35\. Their beauty is in their testimony

* * *

The train was rocking back and forth with its usual regularity, and with a sigh Al slumped back into the seat, elbow planted firmly on the armrest and chin in hand as he looked across the aisle out the opposite window, trying desperately not to appear as if he were related to the arguing couple across from him.

“I told you we should have tried to get on the earlier train.”

“That’s hardly my fault; you were the one who wanted to eat before we left the hotel-“

“Only because you were the one who slept in late as usual-“

“Only because you woke up and shut off my alarm!”

“I swear, I don’t even know why I go anywhere with you.”

“I don’t know why I let you go anywhere with me!”

There weren’t many couples who bickered like his brother and his wife tended to do; Al had recognized the tendency for what it was long before either one of them had realized on their own. It was rare he himself had to step in and break up the arguments, because they usually just wore each other out – or worked each other up, in which case Al’s interference was especially unwanted. In all honesty, most of the time he thought it was a sweet little quirk in their relationship.

Even if it made traveling with them a gigantic pain in the neck.

Winry’s voice rose and Al suddenly found a pressing need to use the bathroom, though neither one noticed his disappearing act. When he returned he was less than surprised to find that the pair’s argument had grown even louder, and that they now had an audience.

There was an older couple sitting behind them, looking almost horrified, and as Al made his way back to Ed and Winry the gentleman reached out and tugged Al by the coat sleeve.

“Are you with them?” he asked anxiously, and Al’s face automatically morphed into a comforting smile.

“Yes,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Don’t worry about them, they just argue a lot. It’s kind of how they communicate, like their native tongue or something –“

“_I said I don’t want to go on to Rush Valley, Ed! Why don’t you listen to me_?!” Al’s eyebrows creased at these words, so out of character for Winry.

“_Since when don’t you want to go to Rush Valley, aren’t you always looking for a new chance to bankrupt me_?”

The gentleman and his wife still looked alarmed. “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “They do this all the time.”

“_What’s the matter with you, Winry? Why the hell are we rushing back to Risemboo_l?”

“_Because I’m _pregnant_ and I’m _tired_, Edward_!”

Silence. Al’s jaw dropped. Craning his head, Al managed to glimpse a view of his brother’s own pale face, and knew that it had been news to him as well.

“See?” Al told the shocked couple cheerfully. “It’s just how they communicate with each other.”

* * *


	40. With Devotion’s Visage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry never does things the usual way. Ed's sleeping suffers as a result.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 10, Chapter 15, Chapter 33, and Chapter 39.

* * *

11\. My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?

* * *

He was dragged kicking and screaming from sleep by a persistent finger prodding the sensitive spot on his neck, where the metal of his automail met the skin of his shoulder.

“Ed, wake up.” He barely resisted the urge to slap the intruding digit away, choosing instead to mumble something incoherent and burrow further into the blankets. “Ed, I _need_ you!”

Finally he rolled over, squinting in the light coming from the bedside table. “What? What’s wrong?”

Winry was kneeling on the edge of the bed, her long, draping nightgown only accentuating the swell that had only recently began to be noticeable. It was much to his consternation to find that she was not bleary-eyed and sleep-mussed but flushed with excitement and grinning almost manically at him. Sitting up and running one hand through his bangs, he frowned disapprovingly at her. “You’ve been up working again, haven’t you?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged, even as Ed’s frown persisted in the knowledge that she was likely to absolutely crash before dinner the following evening. “Come on, I need your help.”

“Winry, I’m not transmuting anything for you at 2 o’clock in the damn morning!” Ed growled, though he found himself firmly pulled from bed nonetheless.

“I was just thinking, Ed,” she gushed, easily ignoring his protests, “about Mr. Fields and how he’s needed something stronger and it’s too late for me to place the order now and I just need to get some steel, Ed-“

“You’re five months pregnant,” Ed pointed out. “You _need_ to get some sleep.”

“After this,” Winry soothed, pushing him ahead of her into the workshop. “I already have the iron sheets, can’t you…” she trailed off at the fierce look Ed was giving her, trying not to look culpable.

“After this,” Ed agreed. “Then you’ll go back to bed?” Winry nodded, trying her best to look innocent, and Ed sighed before giving in. “I need carbon then, if you want steel.”

The sky outside was still dark, and Ed found himself fantasizing about returning to bed – and forcing his delinquent wife to return with him – while he gathered the needed materials, eyeballing the ratio between the iron and the carbon before shrugging and clapping his hands.

“Oh, Ed!” Winry breathed, her eyes lighting up. “It’s perfect! It’s exactly what I need!”

“Wonderful,” he said sarcastically, reaching out to snag her arm in turn. “It’ll still be there in the morning.”

“Oh, but Ed – !” Winry gave one last longing look over her shoulder, though her protests were easily overridden by Ed’s mutterings.

“Up all hours of the night, not even paying attention to your own health, are you? Honestly,” he sighed, complaining to some unseen, sympathetic ear. “Most women crave strange foods. My wife craves alloys.”

* * *


	41. Render Up Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for waiting is over and now it's time for action.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 9 and Chapter 19. Warnings for total AUishness and implausibility.

* * *

20\. New splendour to the dead

* * *

When he finally came to, it was to the sound of his name being called in the midst of a great din and a cold hand upon his cheek. His eyes flipping open, they immediately met Winry’s before her blue ones blurred and realigned in front of him.

“Ed?” she called anxiously, her eyebrows creased and her hand shaking against his skin. “Are you awake? Are you okay?”

“Winry? What’s going-“

“Later,” she said shortly, kneeling next to him at his shoulder. “Hold on, this is going to hurt.”

“Huh?” He only had a moment before he heard that familiar click and felt the white-hot pain that only seized his body at automail reattachment. He let out a strangled yell and when all the noise in his ears finally faded he made out Winry’s low, tense voice once again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he took your arm off because he didn’t want you to do any alchemy but then –“

“Greed!” Thankfully, the pain had helped wake him up a little, and with a sudden surge of energy he sat up so quickly he almost knocked heads with Winry and finally took in the scene in front of him.

They were crouched behind some sort of rubble, smashed up next to each other between the pile of dirt and rocks and the crumbling stone wall next to them. Beyond was the homunculus Greed, clearly locked in a death match with a familiar figure in black. Greed had his single broadsword while the bodyguard was wielding a pair of kunai, and it was clear that Greed was mostly toying with the girl – he was letting her step in and leave broad swipes across his throat and chest that would have killed any mortal only to laugh as the skin neatly knit itself back together.

“They were already fighting when I found you,” Winry whispered, hovering anxiously over his shoulder.

He threw a sidelong glace at her. “How did you get away?”

“I don’t use the tools to crack just _your_ skull, Edward,” she snorted. “Listen, we were in these tunnels with Scar and Yoki before – if we head west we might be able to head back towards Briggs.”

“We?” Either his head was getting swimmy again or she was saying ridiculous things. “I’m not taking you with me.”

“Yes you are, Ed –“ Her retort was cut off by some teasing remark from Greed and Ran Fan’s low, determined response. For a moment he and Winry could only fall into silence, wasting time neither one had as Ran Fan dropped a kunai into Greed’s throat, throwing up her automail arm to divert a strike from his broadsword.

“I can’t believe she made it in time,” Ed murmured, utterly mesmerized by the scene in front of him.

Winry was a step ahead, and was already pulling him away, her fingers digging into the skin of his forearm through his coat. “She got tired of waiting, Ed,” she said, almost tiredly, eyes flicking back to the pair. “Let’s go.”

* * *


	42. Know My Stops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Roy's egos are injured in the worst way.

* * *

41\. Scenes from the Narcissist café

* * *

They were at one of those stuffy military things when they’d overheard the conversation, one of those silly things that involved both of them wearing tuxes, that Riza inevitably strong-armed Roy into attending, causing Roy, in turn, to order Ed to make an appearance.

Both were sulking as close as they could possibly get to the doorway, hopeful for an early escape but knowing that it was unlikely to happen: not with the way the band was playing; not with the way Winry’s eyes had lit up at wide dance floor or the way Riza had smiled in anticipation. All they could do was try to hide for a few precious moments before being dragged back, even if they had to spend those few moments in each other’s company.

“Don’t say anything,” Roy said warningly as he tried to make himself appear as small as possible, damning the bright lights that provided too little shadow for cover. “My feet hurt like hell, and I don’t even want to hear about it. I’m not talking to you.”

“I’m not talking to you _first_,” Ed snarled, throwing back his little glass like a shot in irritation, then grimacing as he realized that he’d have to slip from his little hiding place in order to get another.

Roy merely rolled his eyes, but any response he might have come up with – thus breaking his vow not to speak to Ed – was ruined as they both heard two high-pitched voices mention his name.

“Did you see him when he came in?” There were two girls standing with their backs to the alchemists; judging by their oversized gowns and tacky (fake) jewelry, they were the types of girls usually favored by the younger privates: young, pretty, and very willing. Roy knew these girls. Roy could have _majored_ in these girls if he’d gone to college.

“Yeah, Flame looked nice,” her friend responded in a dismissive manner. “But for God’s sake, I think he dated my mom.”

Ed’s eyes widened and his mouth drooped in total, utter disbelief of the gift that had just dropped into his lap. Biting his lip, he tried his hardest not to burst into physical laughter at the flush that developed on Roy’s face.

“Anyway,” the girl continued. “Bobby and I were at Fullmetal’s table. Now _he_ is an alchemist I’d like to get closer to.”

“Yeah…” the first sighed, instantly distracted. “Those eyes…”

“That hair…”

“He’s got some height on him now…”

“That _hair_…”

Roy turned an accusing eye on Ed, as if to blame him for the words coming out of the two young ladies’ mouths, but the look on Ed’s face made it perfectly clear that they’d been totally unexpected. Then, as they sunk in, a wicked grin spread across his face. He turned and stared at Roy, entirely unsure of how to begin gloating.

“You always did like pretty boys though.”

“Tch.” She sighed. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“There is when he’s prettier than you are.”

“Oh, I _know_!” the first agreed, opinion now firmly swayed. “Did you see his date? I think he’s prettier than she is.”

A strange noise came from Roy’s mouth at this point, a sharp exhale of laughter that was quickly choked down and swallowed. Ed felt the tips of his ears burning. For a moment, he stood there, the chatter of the girls’ voices nothing but a dull ringing in his ears, his grip on the poor glass getting tighter and tighter until finally the sound of Mustang suppressing another snort finally pushed him over the edge. Tossing the glass somewhere behind him he stalked off, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, not caring who saw him or what they were saying about him.

Winry was the only one who dared approach him when he was such a state; her eyebrows creased when she saw the dark look on his face. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked, her smile drawing down into a frown.

“Ask the old man,” Ed snapped, not even slowing down as he blew past her.

* * *


	43. Ain’t Nothing We Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed breaks his promise but he also keeps it too.
> 
> Manga-verse, with spoilers for the most recent two chapters (being 76 and 77 at the moment) and also a spoiler for chapter 48

* * *

44\. It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears

* * *

It’s when she sees the blood that it happens; when, utterly exhausted after traveling with Scar and being chased by Kimbley and worrying about Al, she looks at his side and sees the blood and knows that there’s way more of it outside of his body than there should be, that she sucks in a sharp breath and blinks hard.

It’s when she sees the blood that it happens; that one, heart-wrenching moment where his promise is broken, his solemn vow reduced to nothing.

Winry lets out a shuddery breath and tries in vain to wipe away the two or three tears that escape before he can see, but it’s too late and they both know it. He sits up and grabs her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face – though she’s already staunched any other ones that threaten to leak over – and for a few quiet minutes they just look at each other, both groping for the right words.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Ed simply murmurs, “I’m sorry. I – I wanted to make you cry tears of joy.”

Winry wrenches her arms from his grip then, almost violently, and to his total surprise throws them around his neck, drawing him close and burying her face in his shoulder. Something warm is sliding down his neck and it takes Ed a second before he realizes that it’s more tears –tears she doesn’t want him to see because they’re not supposed to exist. “Idiot,” she breathes against his skin. “I _am_ crying tears of joy.”

* * *


	44. Way Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unlike everybody on the face of the planet, Winry is less than impressed.
> 
> Takes place in the manga-verse, in the period of time between when Ed and Al first return from Dublith and when they attempt human transmutation.

* * *

27\. with us your hocus-pocus play

* * *

The Elric brothers are home from their apprenticeship, and Resimbool is all a’flutter with Ed and Al’s newly developed abilities – talents that had shown such promise when they were children, fully bloomed under proper tutelage! The gossip that runs rampant through small towns has had one subject in mind these past few weeks, and Winry is really starting to get irritated with the whole business.

It’s not with the brothers themselves, who have been too distracted to really let the burgeoning praise get to their heads, nor with the townsfolk themselves, who can’t help but be impressed by a bright blue light and the instant repair of a fallen barn or broken cart wheel.

What really irritates Winry is that, honestly, she’s just not all that impressed with alchemy.

She’s not the type to deny its uses – there are some days when it’s easier to ask Ed and Al to fix something when she’s not in the mood to waste an entire afternoon replacing a broken door hinge – but when it really comes down to it Winry still thinks it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

Not that she’d ever admit those feelings out loud – oh no, never, because the immediate response would be that she’s devoted herself to automail, which is just the same thing, isn’t it?

Except it’s not and Winry doesn’t know how to articulate that. Alchemy can’t create a new arm or leg for someone out of scraps and a haphazard circle – although _technically_ it can, but it also can’t because even after the piece is created it’d still need an automail engineer to attach the thing – and there’s no real sense of this equivalent exchange law that Ed and Al seem so crazy over. She devotes days and weeks to creating just the right piece for someone, then devotes months and years to helping them regain motor function in the limb, and while she does receive money for her work it doesn’t seem to compare to the freedom that’s just been granted to that patient. The closest thing to equivalent exchange for her hard work is the sight of the patient walking through town on their new leg, beaming as if they’d never lost the limb in the first place.

It’s not even that Winry wishes her automail was seen as more important than Ed and Al’s alchemy – as Granny always says, a healthy patient is true payment – and the Rockbell name itself is more than enough to inspire respect throughout town.

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate alchemy’s uses either.

She just doesn’t get what the big deal is.

* * *


	45. Perfection Not Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry's first kiss is memorable, but not for the reason she thinks.
> 
> Also referenced in Chapter 10.

* * *

32\. Your kiss a city of stars

* * *

Most girls dreamed about their first kiss. It was supposed to be a right of passage into adulthood – and more importantly, it was supposed to be a magical moment in a young girl’s life when music swelled and the sun shone just for her and her love and the wind swept through whatever romantic place they just happened to be kissing in (her top choices so far had been the beach, the top of a hill at sunset, and a horse-drawn carriage riding through the gardens in spring). Most importantly, when she and her beloved finally locked lips, she was supposed to see stars, and know that the boy she was with was the one she was supposed to be with for the rest of her life.

Winry knew this for a fact. She had read lots of books.

Oh, sure, she had told herself many, _many_ times not to take those silly stories so seriously, and that she should be more realistic about her first kiss, or first relationship, or first anything. It never happened the way it did in the books.

But still… there was always the little picture in her head, of a romantic, sweeping first kiss. It was a private, silly little indulgence that she considered more seriously than she would truly ever admit, even to herself.

So Winry couldn’t help being just a little disappointed when, as Ed finally kissed her for the first time ever, she found herself not swept away but stuck in the moment.

It was… wet. It was wet, and she’d had to stop herself from giggling when their teeth had clicked together, and she was pretty sure she’d never want to eat fried pork again for the rest of her life, no matter how much she’d enjoyed her serving at lunch several hours earlier. And also he was gripping her arms too tightly, as if he were afraid she might melt away right in front of him.

And then Ed had done this… _thing_ with his tongue, entirely by accident, and sort of… _murmured_, right into her mouth, and that had felt good, so she closed her eyes and relaxed into the moment.

Unfortunately, when she relaxed the heavy-duty shifting spanner she’d been using when Ed had sprung his sneak attack kiss on her had slipped from her hand. It landed directly on Ed’s sandal-clad right foot.

With a yelp he’d pulled away from her and fell back, already hopping up on his remaining automail foot. His grip on her arms had tightened, and then, as he lost his balance he pushed away from her, setting Winry off-balance as well and causing her to stagger back into the freestanding table she’d been sitting at when he’d stormed into the room.

The table tipped and she went with it, and with a roar of clanging metals she went heels over head, the breath in her lungs exiting with a whoosh as she hit the ground and all the tools and automail pieces that had been sitting on the table either hit her – the butt of a screwdriver managed to hit her directly above the eye - or the ground around her.

“Ow.”

For a moment Winry laid there, her feet still propped up onto the table and waving ridiculously in the air, and then Ed’s face appeared, looking utterly horrified.

“Are you _okay_?” he barked anxiously, already turning red. “Your – your eye!”

Winry slapped a hand over it, still making no move to get up. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

She didn’t hear Ed’s response – she was too busy thinking about her first kiss. Ed scrambled to help her up, and as she steadied herself on her feet she started giggling, probably convincing Ed she’d hit her head and knocked herself silly.

Her first kiss hadn’t been what she’d secretly hoped for, with music and sweeping winds and a romantic setting, but she had to hand it to Ed. She _had_ seen stars.

* * *


	46. Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She spent years waiting for the Elric brothers...

* * *

30.

touched by a thousand invasions

and still forever an island.

* * *

There used to be a time when Winry was the one who waited for Ed and Al – the one who kept the fire warm and the beds turned down for the occasions when they had to come back to Resimbool and face the things that they’d left behind and were waiting to return to permanently.

These days, Ed and Al are home with her again, happy and as complete as they can be, and while Winry can’t be happier for the brothers there are still days when she feels like they’re lost to her.

It’s not uncommon for her to find either one adrift when he should be eating or sleeping or working – eyes glazed over, distant look parked firmly in place; sometimes either one can space out for hours until they finally snap out of it.

She never knows how they’ll be acting when they come out of it, either. Sometimes Al gets irritable and snappish, and sometimes Ed gets affectionate and makes her heart beat wildly when he comes near her. Other times Al gets needy and runs the gamut of her kitchen while Ed gets quiet, not responding even when she provokes him.

Winry’s learned by now not to press them. It can be the memory of any number of things that brings about such moods – memories of their mother, or of the Gate, or of Al’s time in his metal prison or of their awful drawn-out journey that she was privy to so little of.

She spent years waiting for the Elric brothers to come home to her from their journey, happy and whole.

Sometimes it feels like she’s still waiting.

* * *


	47. Everything She Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed's disturbed by the fact that he can relate to his father.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 10, Chapter 15, Chapter 33, Chapter 39 and Chapter 40.

* * *

46\. I will believe we have the same skin.

* * *

There were several things that Edward Elric failed to really understand about his father until he had a child of his own – not too many things mind; Van Hohenheim was still a bastard who’d left Trisha Elric to sickness and death – but there were a couple little things that had finally clicked into place when Winry had handed him that wailing bundle.

Most notable was the sudden empathy Ed had developed in his unwillingness to touch his child. Hohenheim had believed himself a monster and as a result had been reluctant to touch Ed and Al, afraid of turning them into the same. Ed didn’t believe himself a monster, but he often wondered if automail made him look that way to a child.

For a long time she’d been unable to tell him, but he’d seen the way her little face had scrunched up when cold automail had picked her up, seen the way her eyes had trained upon it when he was wearing short sleeves, and as a result he had shied away from touching her with the mechanical parts of his body; parts he’d accepted for himself long ago but could not ask her to accept.

In gaining this new understanding of his father’s feelings, however, his own feelings as a child had been pushed to the back of his mind; before too long, it fell to his child to remind him of how he’d craved a father’s touch by demanding the same.

Fortunately, for every bit of Rockbell curiosity in his daughter, there was a healthy dose of Elric stubbornness to make up for it, and Ed soon found he was helpless to refuse the girl, if for no other reason than refusal was absolutely unacceptable to her.

“Sit still Daddy!” Trisha admonished, waggling a screwdriver at him and returning to her task; namely, dismantling his automail foot with Big Girl Tools taken from her mother’s workbench.

Ed lowered the newspaper and raised an eyebrow at his daughter. For years he’d tried to spare her the touch of automail and now here she was deliberately seeking it.

Then with a precise flourish she could have only learned from Winry, Trisha easily detached the screw that connected his metatarsal joints. His toes suddenly went limp, and Trisha’s lip pouted in surprise.

Ed winced. “Bean,” he said slowly, wondering if he’d be able to alchemically repair the damage before his wife got home.

Trisha didn’t even look up at him, entirely focused on her task. “Yes?” she asked in her sweetest tone.

Ed sighed and flicked the newspaper back up. He couldn’t refuse her what he himself had wanted as a child. “Your mother’s going to kill me, isn’t she?”

* * *


	48. Every Other Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MATURE CONTENT
> 
> Ed's attitude regarding automail attachment evolves over time.
> 
> Companion to Chapter 22

* * *

45\. Misery with tenderness

* * *

Automail reattachment never was and never would be a pleasant experience. Winry had explained once that the pain of reattachment, though awful, was necessary to ensure that the nerves had connected properly. Then she had patted his cheek in a friendly manner and told him that Granny’s firewood wasn’t going to chop itself.

These days, Ed reflected, Winry’s attitude had changed. There were worse ways to come out of a haze of blinding pain than finding your girlfriend's hand down your shorts.

Although by the time he figured out what was happening she had pretty much moved the shorts out of the way.

“_Winry_,” he hissed, eyes darting nervously towards the door. “Everyone is right outside the room.” This did not deter her, and he added, “What would Garfield say if he walked in right now?”

She finally paused, the hand coaxing him to arousal slipping to a maddeningly slow rhythm, blinking at him as if the reattachment had caused his brain to go haywire. “Who d’you think is out there explaining to my next appointment that I have an emergency, and he simply _must_ reschedule for tomorrow?”

Ed failed to form a response as his blood abruptly rushed south, and Winry gave a half-shrug as she returned to the task at hand.

“You know, he really approves of you,” she continued calmly, completely ignoring Ed’s flushed face or the fact that his automail hand had broken the end off of the armrest. “Although,” she added after a thoughtful pause, “he thinks you’re a little rough around the edges. He’s always begging me to let him teach you how to be a gentleman.”

“Winry,” Ed groaned. Without missing a beat, she reached for the table behind her, grabbed a clean towel, and shoved it in his face.

“I said he approves of you, not that he wants to hear us fooling around,” she said reproachfully.

“Winry,” he growled again, ripping the towel off his face. “Don’t talk about him when you’re…”

“When I’m what?” she asked teasingly, picking up speed.

“When you’re… you’re… I don’t care just don’t stop,” he mumbled, biting his flesh hand through the towel, now thrusting with his hips to try and meet her strokes.

She didn’t, and she also went mercifully silent; it wasn’t long before he fell over the edge, the towel muffling his cries, Winry’s hand steady until she was sure he was done.

He laid there for a moment, breathing harshly as sweat beaded on his forehead, not unlike the state he was in when she first reattached his leg. She got up and picked up another towel, wiping her hands off before bending over, sweeping his bangs from his forehead, and planting a kiss firmly in the center.

“You know, you really threw off our schedule, storming in here in the middle of the week,” she murmured to him. “Garfield says he has some chores Paninya needs some help with, when you’re recovered.”

Then again, Ed thought, watching her through half-opened eyes as she swept from the room giggling at him, perhaps her attitude hadn’t changed _that_ much.

* * *


	49. Out the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al brings home a girl. Winry's less than impressed. Ed would be as well if he weren't amused.

* * *

23.

walk this way

we have been set free

* * *

Winry was washing dishes from the evening – practically wrestling the plates away from Ed, her motive for doing so pathetically clear as she paid no attention to the china in front of her in favor of looking out of the tiny window above the sink, craning her head in hopes of catching a glimpse of the wandering couple.

“You don’t like her.” It was a statement, not a question, and Ed’s face was infuriatingly smug when she turned around to glare at him.

“I like her if Al likes her,” came Winry’s tight, clipped reply.

“You don’t like her,” he drawled slowly, that grin firmly parked as Winry huffed.

“I like her just fine.”

“No you don’t.”

“Fine!’ Winry finally snapped, crossing her arms and ignoring her still damp hands. “I just think Al can do better, is all.”

Ed actually laughed at her this time, and, rising slowly from the table, he reached out easily and brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “I just think you’re jealous.”

Winry gaped wordlessly at him for a moment, and then finally stuttered out haughtily, “Th-That makes no sense. Last time I checked I was dating _you_, not _Al_.”

Ed just laughed at her again, and Winry frowned at him. “You’re handling this awfully well.”

“He’s seventeen years old. So what if he’s finally found a girl he wants to bring home to meet us?” Ed’s tone was far too casual, and Winry raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t recall you being so calm when you met Al’s other girlfriends.”

“Those shrews from Central who were only with him because he’s an Elric?” Ed tilted his head and caught sight out the window of Al and a shorter figure, chestnut hair gleaming in the sunset. “She’s quiet and she’s not just with him because of what everybody says about him because she doesn’t care about alchemy… and she actually tells him no once in a while.”

Winry grimaced. “We’re not very good at telling Al no,” she admitted, slightly chagrined.

Ed grinned and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his forehead against hers. “I think,” he mused, “that you’re just mad because you used to be the only girl who Al hugged, and who Al danced with, and who Al really cared about, and now you can see that Al really likes this new girl and you’re not his favorite anymore.”

Winry pouted, a sure sign that Ed’s teasing had hit its mark. “I still say you’re acting far too calm about this whole thing.”

Ed nodded as he considered her words. “I _was_ upset, and then I saw how _you_ were acting and realized I looked ridiculous…”

Unamused, Winry shoved him away and turned back to the dishes, dipping her hands back in the water. Ed snorted at her again and stepped forward, brushing her hair away from her neck and putting his mouth close to her ear, hot breath grazing the shell of her ear. “And then I thought about how nice it would be to go out without worrying about my brother wanting to tag along…”

And suddenly a whole new world opened up in Winry’s head.

* * *


	50. Take Your Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the very beginning of their relationship, when things become Official, the workroom quickly became their favorite room in the house

* * *

38.

This is not a pen for sheep.

There are no separating distances here.

This is love’s sanctuary.

* * *

When, after months – years, really – of dancing around each other, things between them became Official, they both agreed to keep it a secret.

It wasn’t a _total_ secret, of course – Al was informed, though all he did was blink and tell them that he’d thought they’d been together for some time now – and her grandmother figured things out pretty quickly, but outside of those two no one else knew of the change between Ed and Winry.

There were reasons for this: Ed still spent time in Central, and even if he’d never admit it, wanted to be more confident before exposing himself to teasing from Mustang. Winry’s customers still hated Ed. Their bond had been exploited before by the homunculi, and neither one was particularly willing to advertise that it was now even stronger.

Things like dates and other public affairs were ruled out, as well as any overt displays of affection – though, if Winry occasionally returned home from the market with Ed, a flower perched in her long blond hair, that certainly never turned any heads – and even though both Al and Pinako was aware of their relationship and gave the couple space, both Ed and Winry were hesitant to act upon anything when either his brother or her grandmother could wander in the room.

Quickly, the workroom became their favorite place in the house. Winry spent most of her time in there anyway, and Pinako only wandered in when there was a customer involved. Al steered clear of it, having little to no interest in automail, and, well… Ed needed maintenance.

Ed’s automail had never been in better working order.

In the workroom, there was no awkwardness if Ed wanted to come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, and Ed didn’t flinch if Winry wanted to run her fingers through his hair and braid it. They’d even found that they enjoyed naps after lunch, curled up on the little recovery couch, though the thought of trying such a thing in an actual bed was enough to make Ed stammer and force Winry to blush to the tips of her ears.

It was new and it was exciting and even if it did nothing to curb their bickering it was still a period of time when Winry was blissfully happy. Their comfort with one another grew, but even despite this the idea of behaving in such a manner in front other people still made them both nervous.

Soon, though. Soon they were going to open the door.

* * *


	51. Somewhat Delighted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He might remember how beautiful the wedding was, if he hadn't had too much wine. Ed's thoughts on the drive home.

* * *

37.

Like two swimmers who love the water,

their souls knit together without being sewn, no seam.

* * *

He was tired.

That was the foremost thought in his mind, closely followed by “_I’ve had too much wine_,” and rounded out with, “_I can’t feel my fingers_.”

It was cold – there were several inches of snow on the ground –it was the early morning, and Ed’s eyes were heavy as he gazed at the white expanse around him, feeling relieved that Al was behind the wheel of the car and not he. Ed hadn’t even bothered to fight Al for the keys when his brother had snagged them from his pocket.

“The wedding was nice, wasn’t it, Ed?” Al asked cheerfully from the front seat, smiling and happy and annoyingly sober. It took Ed’s fuzzy mind a moment to catch up – Winry and Al had dragged him to Colonel Bastard’s wedding; that’s where he’d gotten the wine.

“Yeah,” he grunted, suddenly noticing the weight against him and turning his head down to see Winry’s golden crown perched against his shoulder. She was curled up in the backseat next to him, her feet peeking out from beneath the hem of her long skirt. He had no idea where her shoes had ended up. Al must have carried her to the car.

“And the lights and the flowers – I had no idea they could get such fresh flowers in the middle of winter,” Al continued determinedly, not at all put off by Ed’s short response.

There had been wonderful, soft lights, and flowers. Winry had threaded one into her hair, he thought, but he couldn’t see it now. It was probably with her shoes, wherever they were.

“And the band,” Al sighed.

They had danced, Ed remembered. That’s why Winry had taken her shoes off. She’d pulled him out into the middle of the dance floor, even when he had protested, and they had danced. There had been other people too, but Ed had only danced with Winry, and the thought made him stupidly satisfied.

“Riza was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Al pressed.

Winry had been blushing– it could have been from the wine or from dancing, but he had known it was from the way she’d unashamedly pressed against him while they danced and how she’d wrapped herself warm around him - and how he’d stopped protesting.

“What, Al?” Ed asked, suddenly realizing Al was waiting for a response.

“I said she was beautiful, wasn’t she, Ed?” Al repeated patiently, his eyes never leaving the road.

Ed’s eyes skirted over Winry’s blond locks, settled over her shoulder and shading her face.

“Yeah, she was,” he sighed in agreement.

* * *


	52. What You Did Not Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed's return to Rush Valley.
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 1.

* * *

13\. Oh! Oh! Malediction!

* * *

The ride back to Rush Valley was calm, with absolutely no notable events whatsoever; a direct juxtaposition with the chaotic train he’d taken back into Central. It didn’t help that he would have absolutely loved an excuse to be late – the inevitable was coming, but he wouldn’t have minded putting it off for an hour or two before having to face Winry again.

It was after dinner when he arrived in the city, and deciding that he didn’t care what her customers thought, he walked right past the inn to reach her tiny apartment building and crawled up the dirty wooden steps to her place, pausing to take a deep breath before knocking shortly.

The door burst open and there was Winry, her eyes wide, nearly breathless from her scramble to answer his call. For a moment they stood there, he blinking in surprise, her in disbelief, and then she threw herself into his arms, her own locking around his neck and nearly choking him as she dragged him back into the apartment.

“Idiot!” she cursed at him, pulling him down next to her on the couch and looking him over. Ed was still speechless, shocked into silence at the greeting. Her face was scrunched up, her lips pursed as she trailed her eyes down his arms and back up to his face – he’d known she would be angry, but he hadn’t expected her to be quite so upset.

“Winry-“ he started to say, though he lapsed into silence once again at the look on her face. _There_ was the outraged look he new so well.

“You’re just fine!” she said accusingly.

“Well… yeah,” he agreed, not sure exactly where she was going with this train of thought. Wasn’t that a good thing?

“Alphonse called me and told me you’d been in a fight! I thought you were coming back here all beat up and half-dead or something! I’ve been worried sick all day!”

Ed blinked at these words, and then suddenly realized that Al had tried in vain to get him out of trouble – and succeeded only in making Winry panic instead. “I did get into a fight,” Ed explained. “But it was only three guys.”

“And you’re okay?” Winry demanded.

“Mostly.” Ed held up his mangled right arm and let her take in the remains of her prototype ventilation system. “I had a little bit of trouble…”

He didn’t even see the arm lash out, let alone wonder where on her person she’d been keeping the wrench.

When he came to, Winry was sitting on the couch next to him, holding an ice pack against the lump that was rapidly swelling on his forehead.

“Tell Alphonse better luck next time,” she said wryly, removing the ice pack to lean over and brush her lips against the wounded area. Ed hissed, and Winry snorted before turning her attention back to his automail.

* * *


End file.
